Royal Blues
by jewishwondergirl
Summary: When Lily discovers she's the sole heir to a small country called Hogwarts, her life is turned upside down. Suddenly she's burdened with lessons and responsibilities, a threat to her throne—and some smug prince from Gryffindor she doesn't know what to make of. Jily princess diaries AU! I own (literally) nothing.
1. Princess in Shock

CHAPTER ONE – Princess in Shock

 ** _Wednesday June 6, 1:14 pm_**

 ** _My room, London_**

The only thing my father gave me before he died was this stupid diary. So I guess I'll write in it, see what happens. Mum says some lady from Hogwarts is flying in, going over his will and "legacy", whatever the bloody hell that means. Apparently he was some politician back in Hogwarts—which is a small monarchy near Scotland, by the way. Very few people know it exists. I wouldn't know it existed if I hadn't had a father who lived there.

What do people do in diaries? Record their innermost thoughts and dreams? Who they are inside? I have no idea. My name is Lily Evans, I'm seventeen years old, and I'm angry at the world.

Well, I am right now. Marlene says I'm only angry at the world when I'm angry with myself, but she might just be a little more self-actualized than I am.

Sev was over earlier. He said he'd heard about my dad—how?—and wanted to offer his condolences.

"Thanks," I said, not moving from my bed. I still haven't gotten out of bed, as a matter of fact.

He stood awkwardly in my doorway for a few minutes, then sat down on the edge of my comforter, displacing Herbert, my cat. Herbert came and sat by my head instead. He's chewing my hair right now. "You didn't know him very well, though, did you?" he'd asked.

"No," I said. "But it doesn't matter, does it? He's still my dad. Was. He was my dad."

Sev shrugged. "And you don't know what he did for a living?"

"No," I said again. I didn't feel much like talking. "He didn't fly out much, and when he did, we didn't talk about his _work._ "

"I'm sorry." Sev reached into his pocket and pulled out a deck of cards. "Wanna play? It makes you feel better, sometimes."

"No," I said again. "Thanks, Sev, but I'm really not feeling much up to anything."

He took a hint and left then. I feel a little bad, but not _too_ bad. Oh, that lady from Hogwarts will be arriving shortly, according to my mum. She says I need to get out of bed and put on pants. Just for that, I'm putting on a dress.

* * *

 ** _Wednesday June 6, 2:23 pm_**

 ** _Ladies' room of the Hogwarts Embassy, London_**

Holy bloody shit. I don't know how to recount this, so let's just sum it up in a bloody sentence, shall we? Dad LIED to me. Okay, okay, that wasn't much of a summation. I'm still trying to wrap my head around this...

We met the Hogwarts lady at the Hogwarts embassy, and I was dressed very nice, if I do say so myself. Gold ballet flats and a cute yellow dress, perfect for summer. Mum left immediately, she said something about 'errands'. Yeah bloody right.

"You'll be fine, honey," she promised. "I need to go pick up Tuney from the mall, Yvonne had to go home—you're of age in Hogwarts, you can deal with all the legal matters. She should be here at two."

"Mum!"

She kissed me on the forehead and left, so I made myself comfortable on the couch and waited. Let me tell you, punctuality must be enforced by the death penalty in Hogwarts, because the second the grandfather clock in the corner hit the twelve, the doors opened and a tall, thin woman in an emerald green dress swept into the room. She was effortlessly elegant, her gray hair pulled tightly into a bun.

"You must be Lillian," she said, appraising me. I'd stood hastily upon her entrance, and had lost a shoe in the process.

"Yes...ma'am." I'd never called anyone ma'am in my life. I don't know why I'd decided to start now.

"Hm." She swept one last critical eye over me before sitting down on the couch opposite mine. "My name is Minerva McGonagall, I was your father's deputy chief advisor." She watched me as I tugged my ballet flat back on and sit down quickly. "I trust he did not tell you his profession?"

GOD I'm still so angry as I write this. I cannot believe no one TOLD ME.

"No," I said, just as I'd said to Sev earlier today. "I rarely saw him, and we didn't discuss work...or politics."

"Hm." She didn't say anything again, just looked at me. I felt it would be wiser to just keep my mouth shut, and after about thirty seconds, she seemed to agree with me, as she sat back satisfactorily. "Yes, I think you could do splendidly."

I raised an eyebrow. "Do?"

"Your father was the king of Hogwarts," she said without pretense. "You have been the princess your entire life, and now, if you accept, you will become the queen."

I choked on my own spit in shock. Queenly, I know. "Excuse me?" I demanded. "King? You—" My head swiveled back and forth. "Are there cameras in here? Are you _pranking_ me?"

"I assure you, Lillian, I am not. You are the princess of Hogwarts, and if you do not choose to ascend, the crown will go to the next in line." Her lips thinned to a line distastefully. Apparently, whoever's next in line is not the favorable option, if they think I could do better.

"Okay, but...I'm only seventeen. I'm still in _high school._ I start Year Thirteen this fall, I need to start filling out applications, not signing laws into effect!"

McGonagall seemed pleased. "Ah, so you _do_ have some idea of how this works. Good. You'll be majoring in political sciences in university, of course?"

I was still reeling from the 'princess' thing, but managed to splutter out a "No! No, I'm majoring in English Lit. I want to be a _teacher,_ Ms McGonagall. Not a queen."

"You won't be a queen until you're twenty-one," McGonagall said, as if I hadn't voiced my protestations. "If you accept, being of-age in Hogwarts, you would simply become the crown princess, and attend the rest of your schooling in Hogwarts. I assure you, our education is top of the line."

"I'm not going to Hogwarts for school! I have friends here—"

McGonagall waved a hand, brushing aside my assertions like so much lint. "They can visit you at the palace. Or the summer castle, whichever you prefer."

I pressed a hand to my temple, feeling faint. "There's a summer castle?"

McGonagall nodded. "You'll be brought up to speed on the blueprints, including holding rooms in case of an assassination attempt. I assume you already know about how much danger this position will bring you?"

"No!" I said, my hands dropping to grip the hem of my dress. "Assassination attempt? Is that...you know, likely? Should I be _worried?"_

She blinked, like I was being absurd. "Of course, constant vigilance is always encouraged. Your head of security certainly thinks it's a necessity. But no, assassination is unlikely something you'll have to worry about, especially if you present yourself as Britain's Sweetheart Royalty."

"The UK already has royalty," I said coldly. "And I'm no sweetheart."

She waved aside my concerns again with a flick of her well-manicured hand. "I said how you'd _present._ The press must be kept appeased, after all..."

"Press? Like paparazzi?" I couldn't think. Questions flowed out of my mouth, as if maybe getting answers would somehow piece together my shattered mind.

"Of course."

"And...and they know? How could they know?"

"They don't know _yet,_ Lillian. I plan on holding a lovely ball to announce you to the public. Perhaps here in London, as you're so attached to the city...perhaps once you return from a trip to Hogwarts and learn the proper decorum of a crown princess." I noticed her staring at my handles, my knuckles white from squeezing the hem of my dress.

Suddenly it all became too much. The world around me started to spin, colors blending together. I stood abruptly, blinking rapidly to dispel the fuzziness. "I need to use the restroom."

"Of course," McGonagall said sagaciously. "I'll have Pomona prepare us tea in the garden."

And so I'm here. I don't know what to do. Every little girl dreams of being a princess—myself included, obviously—but I just don't know. I have friends here, mum here, Tuney—

Oh, god, Tuney. Does she know? Is she a princess too? Wait. Wait. Wait.

If I'm a princess, and the CROWN princess, then presumably Tuney isn't. Which means that Tuney and I have different fathers. But if the father who's been calling and sending Christmas cards hasn't been Tuney's dad, then who the HELL is?

* * *

 ** _Wednesday June 6, 3:47 pm_**

 ** _Hogwarts Embassy, London_**

I called mum before I went back out to join McGonagall for tea, and...poor Petunia. How could mum DO something like that to her? To _us,_ I mean. Ugh, I guess I'd better write this out...

So mum was never married to my dad. She _was_ married to Tuney's father, who died right after she was born. Mum decided it would be brilliant to just pretend to the two of us that _my_ father, who visited occasionally, was Tuney's father too, since she was only two years old when I was born. Basically, it took some serious scheming on mum's part and some irritating complacency on dad's.

I can't even put my anger into words. Lets just say when I go to Hogwarts, I think some time apart from my lying, scheming mum would be WELL-NEEDED!

No, I don't mean that. Do I?

Whatever, I can't think about it all right now!

When I finally got off the phone with mum, properly seething, I met McGonagall out in the garden for tea. She instructed a servant to pour, and then scoffed when I requested both milk _and_ sugar. I took both anyways, because I have a rebellious streak some ill-timed scoffing cannot quell, and drank it all, even though it did end up far too sweet for my taste.

"I can see how all of this may be overwhelming, Lillian," McGonagall said. I even detected a trace of sympathy in her words! The woman has a heart! "But I assure you, you are handling this all admirably. Better than I'd expected. When I learned you lived in Cokeworth—well, that doesn't matter now. I expect you will be accompanying me back to Hogwarts this Monday?"

"Monday?" I nearly choked on tea. "That's five days from now! I can't simply _uproot_ my entire life in less than a week!"

McGonagall frowned. "I wouldn't expect you to. You'll be back for school by the end of the summer, unless you decide to stay and continue your education in Hogwarts."

I'll admit, it sounds a little tempting. But instead, I mustered all the diplomacy I could in my response: "Thank you very much for taking the time to explain all of this to me, Ms McGonagall. But I'm afraid I'll have to think over such a...large decision. Shall I call you at this number tomorrow with my answer?"

She seemed impressed. "Very well. In the meantime, please, do _not_ tell anyone about this. The press would have a field day, and I can imagine you'd like to keep a low profile for the remainder of your stay in London?"

I pursed my lips, trying not to show how annoyed I was. "Of course."

"Well then," she said, clearly pleased. "I'm seeing you again tomorrow for lessons. On Monday, you'll meet me in the parlor with your valise, we'll be taking the Hogwarts Jet."

"Lessons?" I raise an eyebrow. "Like...how to be a princess?"

She sniffed. "That will come. Political science courses will come. For now, you have a lot of learning to do about Hogwarts. Our future queen cannot subside on trivial knowledge, can she?"

"I...guess not," I said faintly.

And now I'm on the front porch, debating whether or not to call mum to pick me up. On the one hand, I won't need to spend money on a taxi, since I don't feel like taking the Tube right now. On the other, I'd really like to avoid her. I think I'll go to Marlene's. McGonagall said not to tell anyone, and I won't, but...I really need to be around someone who DOESN'T LIE TO ME right now.

* * *

 ** _Wednesday, June 6, 4:30 pm_**

 ** _Marlene's room_**

The first thing Marlene said to me when she opened the door to her flat was "Okay, Lily, I may have lied to you."

The irony nearly made me faint, except I've never fainted, save that one time I was severely dehydrated and had low blood sugar, but even then, I stayed (barely) conscious. So I laughed nervously, invited myself in, and sat on her couch, where old _Doctor Who_ reruns were on.

"About what? You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," I added. If she came clean now, then I would have to come clean, because I don't like having a power imbalance among my friends. Of course, being a crown princess makes an automatic power imbalance, but that didn't count. At least, I think it doesn't.

Marlene coughed nervously. "It's about Severus. I know I told you I wouldn't bring him up, ever, but I kind of need to."

I relaxed, because it wasn't anything serious, but I also tensed up, because I hate arguing about Sev with Marlene. "What about him?" I asked, my eyes narrowing. I'd never really understood that whole 'eyes narrowing' thing, but my eyes totally did it. I suppose it's not very princess-y of me. God, I'm going to have to work on my _manners_ now. I haven't thought about my manners since I was about six years old!

Whatever. Back to Marlene.

"He just posted another one of those articles about how Prince James is an elitist snob who cares about no one but himself—"

Here I rolled my eyes. Marlene's obsession with Gryffindor's Prince James was legendary—not in the 'I want to have his babies!' sense, but the 'his political stances and economical decisions make me so intellectually stimulated' sense. I don't really understand her."

"Don't roll your eyes!" She said, reaching for the remote to turn down the volume on...who was it? I think it was Peter Davidson, as the fifth Doctor. I don't really care. "He posted that article, but...it was from a neo-Nazi site."

Here I frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I mean exactly what I said! Severus Snape is on neo-Nazi sites."

"I'm sure he didn't realize it," I said, but my mouth felt sour around the words.

Marlene's eyes narrowed right back at me. "Lillian Iris Evans. I think you need to talk to Snape. As soon as possible." Her eyes strayed to her phone. "I'm a little scared, Lil. Snape is around you all the time, I see him quite often..."

I feel guilty I didn't immediately think of this. Marlene is Jewish. If seeing neo-Nazi things make _me_ uncomfortable, I can't think of what it does to her. "Of course, Marl. I'm sorry, I didn't think—I didn't mean to defend him. Them. I'll talk to him. In the meantime, uh...block him?"

"Blocking Nazis won't make them go away," Marlene said miserably. "I'm sorry, Lily. I didn't mean to get all...serious." She cleared her throat. "Want to put on old Anne Hathaway movies?"

I smiled, but it was forced. "Make it _The_ _Devil Wears Prada_ and you have a deal. I'll be right back."

So I'm here. Still not sure I'm doing this diary thing correct. I think I'll call Sev once I leave Marlene's—actually, you know what? Screw going home. I'm sleeping over here. It's summer; mum knows I'm mad at her. I'm texting mum and telling her I'm staying. Then I'll tell Marlene I just invited myself to stay the night.

* * *

 ** _Wednesday June 6, 8:58 pm_**

 ** _Marlene's living room_**

 _MARLENE_ AND LILY'S LIST OF HOT BOYS (in no particular order)

1\. Chris Pine

 _Okay, I can get behind this. I liked him in Star Trek, he really captured Kirk's essence._

Don't be such a nerd, Marlene.

2\. Tom Welling

 _Who?_

That guy from Smallville.

 _And you say I'M a nerd. Oh well, no arguments here._

3\. _Prince James Potter_

Ugh, why? He always looks so stuck-up...

 _His foreign affairs policies are dreamy._

Oh my god Marlene you need a shag so badly.

4\. Emma Watson

 _Lily this is a list of hot boys._

Yeah, but I felt the list needed diversity. Besides, she's hot.

 _...agreed._

5\. Oscar Isaac

 _YES THANK YOU. Sexy x-wing fighter pilots make me so happy!_

Marlene I'm getting bored.

 _Me too._

Luckily for me, Marlene was cool with me staying over. My mother, not so much.

"Lily Evans, we need to talk. Come home right now or I'm sending Petunia over."

"No you're not," I heard Petunia say petulantly from somewhere near my mum's shoulder. "I'm angry at both of you. I'm not doing anyone's fetching."

Mum made a noise of frustration somewhere between a goat bleating and Satan's roar. "Just because you've discovered you're heir to the throne of a small country does not mean you can shirk this family—"

"What family?" I hissed, keeping my voice quiet so Marlene wouldn't overhear. "You _lied_ to me. So watch me shirk."

I'm being very immature right now, but frankly, I deserve to be immature once in a while. I'm all snuggled into the squashy purple sleeping bags Marlene keeps in her hall closet, and we've got old chick flicks playing on Netflix, a bowl of M&Ms between us. This is EXACTLY what I need right now.

Now Marlene's yelling and saying I need to stop writing and paying attention so I'm gonna do that before she steals this bye.

* * *

A/N

HELLO EVERYONE! No, I haven't abandoned Road to 100, a new chapter should be up soon, but I'm now working on a very new MULTI-CHAPTER FIC! You'll notice that the chapters are longer—I can't promise it'll be like that for ALL of them, but each chapter will be a day, and I'm mimicking the Princess Diaries book style. Disclaimer: i do not, of course, own either harry potter or the princess diaries. And don't you all worry—prince james will be in the picture soon enough!

let me know what you think! I'm so excited to show this to you all, I've been working SO hard on this (and tr100!) between college apps and work.

Have a lovely day!  
Alys


	2. The Unwilling Princess

CHAPTER TWO – The Unwilling Princess

 ** _Thursday June 7, 10:21 am_**

 ** _Limo back to the flat_**

Yes, you read that right. _Limo._ McGonagall apparently got wind of my location (re: my mother) and apparently deemed that I'm going to need a personal driver, to keep tabs on me. At least she hasn't assigned me a bodyguard (yet). My driver's name is Elphias Doge. He's rather excitable.

"Ah, you like to write, princess! Your father used to write. You know, I was quite good friends with his chief advisor, back when we were schoolboys, quite good friends indeed...I wonder if he ever mentions me, old Elphias...your father never let on, but I suspect he did..."

I let him prattle on, because the instant I told him not to call me princess, he went off on a thirteen-minute rant (I timed it on my phone) about how proper titles are integral to proper society, and not using them would mean humanity's demise was at hand. I figured it was easier to endure being called princess than be the cause of humanity's demise.

Marlene was shocked when the limo pulled up, because she's a sensible girl, and I had to lie to her face about how my grandmother was in town and had to spoil me. None of my grandparents are even alive, but I guess Marlene didn't remember this, because she bought it, and now she's begging me for a ride before my grandmother leaves town again.

Which I can't do if Doge REFUSES to stop calling me 'princess'!

When I see McGonagall next I'm going to _kill_ her for all this pomp and circumstance. I hate lying to Marlene, and when it's revealed I haven't been telling her the truth she will absolutely positively FLIP OUT. I don't want to be around for that.

Oh, speak of the devil, McGonagall's just texted me.

A MAKEOVER? Oh, she'd better be joking. I will throttle that woman with my bare hands.

* * *

 ** _Thursday, June 7, 10:30 am_**

 ** _Limo apparently NOT back to the flat_**

Doge won't tell me where we're going. What if I'm being kidnapped? Then I'll never get that makeover, and McGonagall won't be very happy about that.

* * *

 ** _Thursday, June 7, 11:03 am_**

 ** _Ollivander's Hair Salon_**

If I thought I'd reached peak rage last night, I was wrong. Now there's some old woman flitting about behind me, trying to curl my hair ("Loose waves, princess! Nothing too garish!") and McGonagall is giving me a fast and boring lecture on Hogwarts history. I'm pretending to take notes. Something about four initial founders, then they all split to create the four monarchies and principalities surrounding Hogwarts: the Kingdom of Gryffindor, the constitutional monarchy of Hufflepuff, the principalities of Ravenclaw and Slytherin.

I'll be honest, I tuned it out. I'm too busy worrying about what they're DOING TO MY HAIR! I happen to like it just as it is, thank you very much. And as for all this Hogwarts nonsense, I'll just look the damn country up on Wikipedia—oh, shit, she's noticed I'm not taking notes.

* * *

 ** _Thursday, June 7, 11:32 am_**

 ** _Ladies' room, Ollivander's_**

This is taking FOREVER. I had to BEG a trip to the bathroom off McGonagall to get this. Not only are they curling my hair, they're waxing every inch of me! My legs, arms—honestly, are they whoring me out or making me a princess?

That was probably a very rude thing for me to write. I have nothing against shaving every inch of me, but it's different when I _choose_ to do it. This is being forced upon me! Where is consent?

This Ollivander man seems far too old to know what's 'in', but McGonagall assures me he's the best of the best— "That you could find in _London._ I assure you, the Hogwarts stylists are much more competent." She's also told me that he's sworn to secrecy about the whole princess thing, so that's a relief.

McGonagall's already planning the ball they're throwing when I arrive at the Hogwarts castle. We're going to a gown fitting the second we land, at some boutique called Madam Malkin's. Apparently Madam Malkin designs all the royal dresses. Also apparently, my face screws up when my eyebrows are being plucked. This makes me look like a pug. When I expressed indignation at this comment, she didn't seem happy.

"How will you respond to criticism once you're in the public light?" she demanded.

I told her it was a good thing I'm not in the public light, because I simply don't have the complexion for all those flash pictures. She didn't appreciate this at all.

Hold on, I can hear them talking—are they trying to dye my hair?

* * *

 ** _Thursday, June 7, 3:24 pm_**

 ** _Limo back to the flat_**

Phew, that's all over. I almost punched Ollivander in the face. Apparently redheads are untrustworthy and make unsuitable princesses. What a load of bull. Thankfully, after about thirty minutes of me yelling, he relented and I am still ginger, though now with loose waves. I must admit, I kind of like it. But getting my makeup to look like this _every day_ is going to be a pain in the ass. Maybe I can get someone to do it for me?

McGonagall says yes, I will have maids, but they will most likely _not_ be doing my makeup for me, "unless you want some unexperienced sixteen-year-old girl with blue eyeshadow hitting you on the ear with an eyelash curler."

I can't help but feel like she's speaking from personal experience.

Thankfully, we'll be dropping her off at the embassy on my way back home. This will be my first time seeing mum since all the shit hit the fan—god, what will Tuney have to say about all of it? What if she doesn't even know yet?

Oh, here's the embassy! Time to bid _adieu_ to McGonagall. Her face is kind of red, and her bun seems tighter than usual. She looks very angry.

"Perhaps you will have more respect for your appearance once your face is plastered over every tabloid in the nation, Miss Evans," she said, her lips thinning.

I just smiled prettily and wished her a lovely afternoon. I can be quite charming when I want to be.

And we're on our way again! I like this shade of lipstick—I should have asked Ollivander if I could keep it. Though after I nearly punched him, he probably wouldn't have said yes.

* * *

 ** _Thurday, June 7, 6:02 pm_**

 ** _My room_**

Tuney knows. And I want to cry, but I can't, because then my pretty new mascara will run, and McGonagall will tell me that princesses can't look like raccoons.

When I walked in the door, pulling off my ankle boots and dropping my keys in the dish, Petunia was waiting for me, her arms crossed, one perfect pink nail tapping a perfect staccato against her perfect bicep. "So," she said, her eyes narrowing. "You're a bastard."

My jaw dropped. "Tuney, I don't think that really matters in the twenty-first century—"

"Does it look like I'm _joking?"_ She said, her voice a deadly whisper. "When this all breaks, everyone will know that mummy had an affair with some _prince!_ Have you even thought of the embarrassment you've brought to this family?"

I was still holding one of my boots, feeling stupid. "Tuney, no one will think of it that way. And it's a bit more complicated than that—I mean, who was _your_ father? You thought that our father lived in Hogwarts, but I guess he didn't..."

"How do you think I feel?" She said, her voice rising. "I've lived my whole life thinking some man was my father, only to be revealed that it's all been some lie!"

I felt like she'd slapped me. "I don't understand it all either," I said. "I don't want this, Tuney. I want things to stay the same."

"Oh, yeah," she said sarcastically. "You don't _want_ to be a princess."

"I don't," I said sharply, then dropped my shoe and stormed off to my room.

But the more I think about it...bring a princess could be _awesome._ I'll finally have power to change things, make the country a better place. Sure, it's a country I'd barely heard of, with probably no pull in the EU, but still, a girl has to try! Also, nice dresses, pretty jewels...being a princess might be really sweet.

My phone just buzzed with a text from Marlene, and I'm forcibly reminded of why I _don't_ want this job: moving away from my friends and to Hogwarts.

Ooh, Marlene says Alice is throwing a party tomorrow! That should take my mind off all of this princess stuff.

MARLENE: _Party at alice's tomorrow! she says frank is going to bake, he wants your input_

ME: _sounds great! i'll be there. tell frank to make those fudge brownies i love, he makes them best!_

MARLENE: _is everything okay with you? you've seemed really off lately..._

ME: _hah im fine just going through some stuff with tuney_

ME: _she's pissed at me, as per usual_

MARLENE: _aw im sorry. do you still have the limo tomorrow?_

ME: _definitely._

MARLENE: _think you could give me a ride to alice's?_

ME: _definitely._

MARLENE: _thanks lils! gotta bounce, ttyl!_

ME: 3

I love Marlene to pieces. She's always been there for me, even though she doesn't exactly... _approve_ of my friendship with Severus, which I guess I do understand. I hate being in the middle of the two of them, because Sev things she's some airheaded bimbo, and Marlene thinks he's a Nazi!

Ugh, I can't even think about all that anymore. I haven't talked to Sev since yesterday, and I know he's texted a few times, but with all this princess stuff I just can't find it in me to respond to him. I hate to say it, because I love Sev, but being around him can just be so _draining._ Does that make me an awful person?

I can only hope that Alice's party tomorrow will do me some good. Alice is such a wonderful girl, I can't imagine anything going any less than perfect.

* * *

A/N

Hello everyone! This chapter's not as long as the last, and not nearly as long as the next will be, but I'm trying to get the beginning chapters up so we can get to the good stuff! The next chapter of Road to 100 is COMING, I promise! I'm nearly done with it-here's a spoiler for you: there's at least one Death Eater in it.

Anyways, I'm officially a senior! School starts tomorrow. Wish me luck!

All my love,

Alys


	3. The Princess and the Party

CHAPTER THREE - The Princess and the Party

 _ **Friday, June 8, 10:33 am**_

 _ **My bed**_

I just woke up, and already I'm in trouble. Last night, when mum came home from work, I'd pretended to be asleep. She comes home around 7, but like that was going to stop me.

She burst into my room about ten minutes ago, apparently unable to take my absence for one more second.

"Lillian Evans, we need to talk."

I blinked my eyes blearily. "Does it have to be right now?"

"Yes," she said emphatically. "You'll be leaving for Hogwarts on Monday, and we haven't even discussed this. How do you _feel?"_

I was suddenly annoyed, with good reason. "Does it matter how I feel? I'm crown princess, mum, whether I like it or not. I've come to terms with it, that's all that matters. Tell Tuney to leave me alone."

"Your sister is distraught," mum said, looking distraught herself. "This has all happened so suddenly, Lily." She sat down on my bed and touched my hair, trying to be all sympathetic. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I didn't mean for it all to explode like this—I thought there would be other heirs, or you would at _least_ be over eighteen when it does—"

"I'm of age in Hogwarts," I said obstinately. "And what about lying to Tuney?"

"I had to," she said. "Her father died when she was so small, and yours was still in the picture...I just asked him to send an extra card, an extra present on her birthday...expenses weren't a problem, he was fine to go along with it, to make you happy."

A lump was growing in my throat, and I brushed her hand away. "He cared about me?"

"Oh, darling," mum said, her eyes now shining with tears. "Of _course_ he cared. But we agreed that you needed a normal childhood, since the chances of you becoming queen were so slim anyway, we thought there would be no point of raising you in Hogwarts. Besides, while we loved each other, we would never have worked out in the longterm, and there was Petunia to think of—I couldn't separate you! She was so young when you were born, and she loved you so much, I couldn't send you to your father. We agreed I would have full custody, and the press would never know you existed." She paused. "Until he died, and named you heir."

I fell back on my pillows. "Mum, please."

"Lily, I wanted you to hear the full story, from _me,_ without that McGonagall woman vilifying me or tailoring the story to her benefit. _Please,_ Lily. I love you so much, I couldn't stand it if this tore us apart."

"Oh _mum."_ I pulled myself upwards and hugged her tightly, her shoulders shaking. "It's okay, I understand. I love you."

She left me after a few minutes of crying and hugging, to go "make you something for breakfast, something yummy, okay?"

So I'm in trouble. Because I can't leave my mum.

Herbert meowed impatiently as soon as the door shut behind her, and I immediately went to go fill his food bowl. That reminds me: I have to make sure Mum or Petunia watch over him while I'm gone. Before I to breakfast I'll write up a quick care guide.

LILY'S GUIDE TO NOT KILL THE CAT

Morning: Feed him (IN MY ROOM! He won't eat if it's anywhere else), and make sure the bowl is full to the top. Get him fresh water, even if there's still some from the night before. He only drinks fresh water. NO MILK. Cats are lactose-intolerant.

Evening: Feed him BEFORE you eat dinner, then give him a LITTLE bit more before you go to bed. Not too much; just enough that he won't be chewing on your hair in the middle of the night because he's so hungry.

NOTE: don't buy the cheap crap. Buy the nice kitty chow. Herbert is worth it. Also, no catnip. He goes crazy. Cuddle with him at least twice a day, and play with him so he stays in shape.

I think I'll miss my cat more than my sister.

* * *

 _ **Friday, June 8, 2:20 pm**_

 _ **My room**_

Mum's breakfast became brunch, then a full lunch spread, which Petunia joined us for. She wouldn't let me eat anything leading up to her feast, so I was starving when I finally sat down and dug into the egg salad. Mum stress-cooks, which is great for our Tupperware leftovers, but not so much when she's glaring over your shoulder and demanding you eat everything.

"I don't want you getting spoiled by palace chefs," she said sternly, as Petunia sipped tea with her pinky in the air, somehow managing to not look utterly ridiculous.

"I won't, mum, I promise," I mumbled through a mouthful of bread and cheese. "Oh, and can I bring a plate of those dolmas to Alice's tonight? She's having a little get-together, Frank's making brownies."

Petunia's face shifted, like she was about to make a joke, then morphed back into her customary indifference. She loved those fudge brownies even more than me, and always managed to wrangle and invitation out of me to these parties. It seemed today would be different.

I hate being estranged from my sister. She's never been like this to me before—usually to bullies and jerks on the street, that cold, calculated glare and stiff posture that screamed, "Don't touch me, or you'll regret it."

Mum nodded, eyeing the untouched plate of dolmas. "I know you don't usually like grape leaves, sweetie, but I just love making them."

I packed up the dolmas and then excused myself to get ready for the party, which was at 3. I decided not to try and imitate Ollivander's carefully applied full face of makeup, instead opting for a simple foundation, pale pink lipstick, and bronze eyeshadow. I was just applying the last stroke of mascara when Petunia knocked softly on my door and let herself in.

"I'll bring you back a brownie," I offered, holding out the proverbial olive branch.

My sister didn't take it. "I think," she began, then took a breath. "I think this trip to Hogwarts will be good. For us. Some separation, time to ourselves..."

I swallowed. "Oh. Okay. Are you saying you d-don't want me to call you? While I'm in Hogwarts?"

"I think it would be best."

The next few seconds were a blur, as I vaguely remember nodding and she left the room.

I was incredibly thankful for waterproof mascara as I blinked back tears, trying to focus myself. She'll come around. I know she will. She has to. As soon as I land, I expect she'll have already left me a message, apologizing and saying she can't bear to be parted from me.

Well, that's an exaggeration. But I still have a few days before I leave, and I haven't even packed yet. Who knows what could happen between now and then?

* * *

 _ **Friday, June 8, 4:02 pm**_

 _ **Alice's bathroom**_

Asking that last question there was just _begging_ for trouble. I don't know who talked—could've been Ollivander, could've been Tuney—no. Not Tuney. She wouldn't have done this to me...would she have? Oh, god, Marlene must hate me. I can hear her, knocking on the door, asking to come in—no, demanding—and I can't come out. I can't face her.

Okay, okay. If I slow down, and write fast, I should be able to get this all out before McGonagall comes and whisks me away, as she undoubtedly will. Okay. Deep breaths, Lily.

I picked up Marlene in the limo. Doge greeted her with the usual levels of enthusiasm, and then whisked us off to Alice's party like princesses. Marlene even said as much: "In this limo, I feel like a princess!"  
All I said back was "I know how you feel."

I thought it was funny at the time. Now she must hate me even more for that stupid joke—okay, okay, Lily, keep it together. One thing at a time.

Doge wanted to wait outside for me, but I told him it would probably be a while before the party was over, so I gave him a few hours off. He seemed thrilled, and pulled off so fast I didn't even have time to make sure I had his number to call when I'm ready to go.

Alice threw the door open as soon as we knocked. "Oh, you're here! I'm so excited," she said enthusiastically, waving us in, "Frank's in the kitchen, and Mary is already here. Now that you're here we can play charades!"

Alice's parties were always wild.

As soon as I got to the kitchen I poured myself a glass of wine and drained the whole thing. Marlene raised an eyebrow. "Getting started a little early, aren't we? It's only three."

If my calculations were correct, it was happy hour in Hogwarts. But I didn't tell her that. "I'm under a lot of stress," was all I said.

She nodded understandingly. "University things, huh? Application essays are the _worst._ "

I let her think that.

The two of us were on a team together for charades. The game went pretty much like this:

ALICE: Oooh, is it a movie?

ME: *mimes a 'no'*

ALICE: Okay, okay...a book?

ME: *mimes another 'no'*

ALICE: *frustrated now* Lily, stop picking obscure things!

ME: *raises one eyebrow*

ALICE: Was that a clue?

FRANK: Alice, would you please let someone else guess for once?

Frank's brownies were fantastic, but every time I ate one I thought of Petunia and it just made me more upset. Actually, the more I think of it, the more I'm convinced it probably _was_ her...no, no, no! Focus, Lily, don't blame your sister instinctively!

I'm starting to think I'm talking to myself way too much.

The rest of the game was uneventful, but fun, and I was steadily drinking my way through a second glass of red wine when Mary, on her phone, suddenly shrieked, "ALICE, TURN ON THE TV RIGHT NOW!"

Confused, we all stared at her.

"NOW!" She screamed again.

Alice did as she asked, but because this wasn't a movie, all that was on when the TV turned on was the Food Network. Mary rolled her eyes, grabbed the remote, and navigated to BBC 1.

The newscaster was speaking with a polite smile on his face, and there was a picture of me—ME! —in the right hand corner of the screen. "...Princess Lillian, the sole heir to the small country of Hogwarts, lives in London with her mother and sister, and sources say she plans on studying political science at university. No comment yet from the Hogwarts press, but we _have_ managed to find one of Princess Lillian's friends, and he's agreed to give us a statement. We go now to Rita Skeeter, live from Kensington Gardens. Rita, who have you got there?"

My jaw dropped as a blonde woman appeared on screen, beside none other than Severus Snape.

"I've got one of the princess's closest friends here, Andy, a Mr Snape, and he says Lily never actually knew she was a princess! Severus, did Lily even know her father?"

Severus opened his mouth to answer and I shrieked, "TURN IT OFF, FOR GOD'S SAKE, JUST TURN IT OFF!"

Mary, who was still holding the remote, did as I asked. It was only then, in the echoing silence, with all their faces turned towards me, that I realized I had shattered the wine glass in my hand, and my blood was mixing with the wine, now staining Alice's lovely green rug.

I ran to her bathroom, slammed and locked the door, wrapped my hand in a towel, and started writing.

Maybe it was McGonagall who blabbed. I mean, who _else_ would say I planned on majoring in political science? Everyone KNOWS I want to major in English! She practically left a calling card—speaking of, I think I'll call her right n

* * *

 _ **Friday, June 8, 10:32 pm**_

 _ **Limo on the way to Hogwarts Embassy**_

Sorry about that. I forgot Mary knows how to pick locks. They dragged me into the kitchen, where Frank bandaged my hand (he's studying medicine at uni) and waited for me to explain myself.

I cleared my throat a few times before I opened my mouth to speak, and the second I did I dissolved into tears.

To my complete surprise, no one seemed particularly...angry. They just seemed concerned, which only made me cry harder. Crap, I'm crying again now just thinking about it. What did I do to deserve such great friends?

Mary rubbed my back while they waited for me to cry myself out, and Marlene made tea, and they all sat me down in the living room so I could explain. Which I did. "Y-you see," I blubbered, "It turns out my dad was a prince. The bloody prince of this bloody country called Hogwarts, and my mum never even told me. He's not even Tuney's dad, he was some other poor bastard who's _also_ dead now, and so I'm crown princess, I guess, and I'm forced to leave for Hogwarts on Monday, assuming they still want me, and I wasn't supposed to tell anyone so I'm _so sorry_ but now it's out, I guess, and I don't know who blabbed—"

My phone rang. Alice checked caller ID and told me it was the McGonagall woman. I took a deep breath and answered.

"Lillian Evans," her cold voice said. "You will come straight to the embassy at once. I've called a press conference to do some damage control. Do not talk to anyone."

She hung up.

I glanced up at my friends, who had of course heard it all, and grimaced. "I suppose that's my cue to leave."

Alice hugged me tightly. "I don't pretend to understand any of this, Lils," she said into my neck, "but I think you'd make a fabulous princess. Or queen. Or empress."

I nearly started crying again, but if I'm going to be princess or queen or empress I'll have to have a little tighter hold on my emotions. So I simply took another deep breath, nodded twice, and stood. "I'll call as soon as I can," I promised, more to Marlene than the others.

Doge was waiting for me downstairs, and he was significantly quieter than usual, despite my pestering. "Does McGonagall know who leaked it?" I asked. "Was it Ollivander, do you think?" I decided to keep my suspicions of McGonagall herself to myself, in case that's treason or something. Doge won't talk.

I swear, this silence and anticipation is killing me. We're still about five minutes out from the embassy, and I really do not want to tell the story of how I found out I was princess _again_ to an entire press conference.

Ooh, Marlene just texted!

MARLENE: _bbc says theres gonna be a press conference and youll be speaking. are you?_

ME: _no effing clue. no one tells me anything._

MARLENE: _ughhhhhh_

MARLENE: _im so sorry lils_

ME: _youre not mad at me?_

MARLENE: _of course not!_

MARLENE: _god, only the worst human ever would be mad at you for something so completely beyond your control._

MARLENE: _am i little peeved you didnt trust me enough to tell me right away? a little. but hey, it's completely understandable._

ME: _you're the best, marl._

MARLENE: _i know 3_

MARLENE: _hey, news says you're pulling up now! i see you!_

And I see the cameras. Here we go.

* * *

 _ **Saturday, June 9, 12:14 am**_

 _ **My new room in the embassy**_

I'm absolutely exhausted, but I need to write this all down. Apparently, I'll be staying here until I leave Monday. So that's still on. Also, I WAS RIGHT! It _was_ McGonagall who leaked the princess thing to the press. She said as much as soon as I showed up:

"I told you you wouldn't be prepared," she said crisply the second I entered the lobby, her eyes roving over my bloodshot eyes, puffy from crying, and my mussed hair. "I warned you that unless you took this seriously, you would have to be thrust into it with no safety net."

"Um, no," I said, touching my hair self-consciously. "You never said anything of the sort. I knew it was you—I don't plan on majoring in poli-sci!"

"Po-li-ti-cal sci-en-ces," McGonagall enunciated viciously. "It is ridiculously unladylike to abbreviate the simplest of words."

"T-O-O B-A-D," I snapped. "I've had practically no princess lessons, and the first thing you want me to do is hold a _press conference?"_

McGonagall smiled, her lips tight and thin. "Yes."

So Ollivander was rushed in, my hair fixed and makeup tweaked, and I was sent back outside to face a mob of press and cameras. With absolutely no prep.

I'd expected them to be shouting questions, but they were silent, waiting for me to speak. So I cleared my throat, summoned vague memories of a public speaking course I'd taken years ago, and announced myself.

"Hello," I said, hoping I conveyed confidence, but afraid there was a squeak of terror. "I am Lillian Iris Evans, crown princess of Hogwarts. I understand that prior to this evening, my existence was...um...unknown."

Obviously. God, I'm awful at this speech-making stuff. I'll be a terrible princess/queen/empress.

"Despite my existence" (did I use existence twice within close proximity to each other? AUGH!) "Being revealed sooner than I'd have liked, and before I am fully prepared, I am ready to take your questions, as I am certain you have many."

More microphones thrust forward, and hands shot up.

I picked the blonde woman in the front, who looked vaguely familiar, as she looked as if she were about to spontaneously combust if I didn't answer her first.

"Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet," she said breathlessly. That's why she was so familiar. She had been interviewing Severus earlier. "Is it true you're illegitimate, and are considering abdicating?"

I blinked. "Well, I suppose in archaic times I would be considered illegitimate," I said slowly. "However, this is 2016, and such stigmas have been thankfully left in the past, where they belong." I spent a few seconds thanking various deities for the eloquence being a prospective English major afforded me, then went on. "And about abdication...I will not abdicate unless I have been proven unfit to rule, and believe Hogwarts would be better off without me."

I winced internally (and hopefully not externally). Every time I thought it was going well, I said something pretty stupid. A few reporters were nodding thoughtfully, though, so I guess it came across as somewhat diplomatic. Good.

"And, princess, what is your opinion of Prince James? He is an eligible bachelor, and a marriage between you two could really strengthen alliances between Gryffindor and Hogwarts!" Skeeter leaned forward eagerly, an acid-green pen poised atop a yellow legal pad.

I shuddered. I couldn't help myself. "I will not be entertaining the possibility of marriage, to Prince James or anyone," I said.

There was muttering around the crowd, and I backtracked quickly.

"A-at least, not at the moment," I said hastily. "I'm not saying I never want to marry, I'm just saying, I'm seventeen years old, and I'm certainly not marrying some bloke I've never met for some alliance—" I bit myself off as soon as I realized what was coming out of my mouth.

If I refused the possibility of a marriage alliance, wasn't I basically saying I _wouldn't_ do anything for my country?

"Next question, please," I said faintly, my eyes roving towards the back of the crowd. I picked a young man in a newsboy cap, simply because he was nondescript, and I wanted the opposite of Rita Skeeter.

"Will you be changing your citizenship from that of Great Britain to Hogwarts?" he wanted to know.

I hadn't considered this. "I would, ideally, like to apply for dual citizenship," I said. "London has been my home for seventeen years, and even if—" I quickly corrected myself. "— _when_ I move to Hogwarts, I hope to retain some ties to the place I grew up."

Not too shabby, but I was sort of lying. I didn't want to move to Hogwarts. I didn't want to be princess. But here I was, pretending I was thrilled and had _plans._

"How do you feel about being princess? This is all so new!" A woman called.

Speaking of being thrilled. I actually thought about this, then answered honestly: "I might still be in shock, but I think I'm actually happy about it. Hesitant, of course, but I'm actually a little excited. I mean, come on: who doesn't dream of waking up one morning and discovering they're royalty?"

I actually got some chuckles! From the reporters! I was winning them over!

And then of course I had to ruin it with something ridiculously cheesy. "I can only hope that I'll serve the people of Hogwarts well." At that point, however, I was feeling dizzy from all the attention and decided to wrap it up. "Er—one last question, please."

"Princess, how can you expect to be a good leader when you didn't even know Hogwarts existed until a few days ago?"

I flinched. "I—I did know it existed," I said. "I knew my father lived there, I just didn't know his exact...position of power. I will have to do some extensive research into the country, and I plan on going to many lessons before I officially take the throne..." I really hope that's an option, 'cause I'm completely unprepared to rule a country I know nothing about. "But I think I can do this. Not to brag, but I've been near the top of my class since I was eleven. I feel confident in my ability to learn quickly."

I glanced behind me, at McGonagall, who was nodding, and a small smile had actually formed on her lips. "Thank you for having me," I said quickly. "That's all for now. Goodnight!"

They were shouting after me as I went back in, but I couldn't listen. My legs had turned to jelly and my hands were shaking. What a disaster.

* * *

A/N

Hello everyone! I'm so excited for this story. The chapters are SO LONG, which I think you'll love... :P

I really really hope you like it, this Lily is a LITTLE different than I usually write her, but this scenario is just so much fun. The prose just kinda flows, so the writing itself comes really fast, much faster than TR100! Speaking of, I just finished chapter 39 of TR100, but I'm gonna give it the customary day to sit and for rereading, and then you should get it within the week. Having two multi-chapters is hard, but I just love it! And, as always, any suggestions for one-shots are welcome!

All my love!

xoxo

Alys


	4. Princess of the Press

CHAPTER FOUR - Princess of the Press

 _ **Saturday, June 9, 11:34 am**_

 _ **My new room at the embassy**_

I was rudely awoken five minutes ago by my phone ringing. "Oh, my, god!" Marlene shrieked into my ear. I threw my phone under the pillow next to me until I heard her repeating my name, then I picked it back up again.

"Sorry," I said. "What was that? I couldn't hear you over the screaming."

"Your press conference! It was amazing! Did you see what Prince James said about it earlier?" (I'm adding a billion question marks because they were totally there. Verbally, I mean.)

"No," I responded wearily. "What did he say?"

"He said you were very eloquent in your refusal to marry him!"

I groaned, pushing my face deeper into my pillow. "Oh, shit. Marlene, would you mind coming over here to the embassy and shooting me in the mouth?"

"Oh, dear, you know I would," she said, her words dripping with false sympathy, "but you've been completely blocked in my paparazzi."

"What?" I jumped out of bed, tripping over my shoes from last night and shoving the curtains aside. Sure enough, below my window, dozens of reporters and sketchy-looking people with cameras were camped out on the sidewalk. "Oh, jeez. I guess I'm stuck here."

Marlene tried to be supportive. "It might not be that bad," she said. "You can meet with that lady you mentioned before, get some princess lessons?"

"That's! Worse!" I groaned and sank back into bed, the hotel-like white sheets and duvet crumpling beneath me. "But probably not a half-bad idea. Talk to you later, Marls."

"Love you, Lils."

I haven't managed to get out of bed yet, only to reach over to the nightstand and pull my diary and write. I am now writing. I am also now procrastinating. I do not want to—what was that.

It was a knock at the door. A maid—there are MAIDS? In an EMBASSY?—wants to know if I'll be coming down to breakfast or if I'd like it brought up.

I said I'll be right down, but I still

haven't

moved.

Wait who's here now?

* * *

 _ **Saturday, June 9, 4:50 pm**_

 _ **Limo on the way back to the flat**_

This has been an odd day. To pick up where I left off, McGonagall burst into my room, recoiled at how I'd dumped yesterday's clothes on the floor, demanded to know why I was wearing a bathrobe (it's not like I'd brought pajamas with me, so I'd had to make do!) and insisted it was time to get up and have lunch.

I skipped breakfast, was severely reprimanded for allowing myself to sleep so late (because obviously that was a choice I'd made, being unconscious and all), and given remedial table manners.

I don't know what to make of all of this, but remedial table manners were only the _beginning._ So many forks. I didn't know there could be so many plates stacked on top of each other. At least I got to practice on real food! My first five-course meal, a traditional Hogwarts feast.

Course 1: Appetizers. Today I was given bruschetta, which was delicious, but I was told not to get used to it. Apparently the chef just had an abundance of tomatoes today. I was reasonably upset.

Course 2: Soup, usually pumpkin-flavored, even on off-pumpkin seasons. Apparently pumpkin is a delicacy in Hogwarts? They even make juice from it. Pumpkin juice. Okay, then.

Course 3: Meat. This one was a steak of some sort; I didn't have time to ask too much about it, I was being reprimanded for using the fish knife. We're not even having fish at this meal. I'm so confused.

Course 4: Salad, traditionally with pumpkin vinaigrette. Sometimes topped with roasted pumpkin seeds. I don't even like pumpkin that much. Where are all these squashes coming from?

Course 5: My favorite! Dessert. Pumpkin pie, of course. Delicious, but heavy on the pumpkin. I don't understand all the pumpkin.

McGonagall said I did adequately, so we moved on to posture. She said that was above average, so yay! I _did_ do ballet from the time I was six to the time I was thirteen, thank you very much. I also did admirably at dancing, because I'd had to learn the waltz during phys ed last year.

Basically, all of the topical stuff I'm acing. But when it comes to the nitty gritty of ruling a country, I'm hopeless.

She gave me a quick quiz on world geography, and I did dismally. Here, I'll copy it all down. To "study."

1\. Name the capital of France and its chief export.

Paris, wine

 _Incorrect. France's main export is machinery and equipment._

2\. Where is the Gulf of Bothnia located?

Somewhere off Bothnia?

 _Incorrect. Bothnia is not a country. The Gulf of Bothnia is in the northernmost arm of the Baltic Sea, between Finland and Sweden._

3\. In which continent is Lithuania located?

Africa. Or Asia.

 _Incorrect. Lithuania is in Europe, bordering Poland, Latvia, and Belarus._

4\. Name four of Thailand's main exports.

I don't know!

 _Incorrect. Thailand's main exports are textiles, footwear, fish products, and rice._

5\. Give four generations of the royal family of Gryffindor.

Someone, someone, Queen Euphemia and King Fleamont, Prince James

 _Partially incorrect. King Charlus and Queen Dorea preceded the current queen and king, and before them were King Hardwin and Queen Iolanthe._

6\. Where is the constitutional monarchy of Hufflepuff located?

Bordering Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, south of Hogwarts.

 _Partially incorrect. Hufflepuff is to Hogwarts' southwest._

7\. What is the primary language spoken in Guinea-Bissau?

I don't even know where that is.

 _Incorrect. The primary language of Guinea-Bissau, located in West Africa, is Portuguese._

So that went awfully. But how did she expect me to know _any_ of that? She then forced me to sit through an entire history lesson on Hogwarts. I took notes, and will summarize them. Hogwarts was once much larger, consisting of Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin, founded by Kings Godric and Salazar and Queens Helga and Rowena. Not too long after that, Slytherin split off to become its own country, and the other three followed suit. The main country of Hogwarts became a neutral ground, and after a few hundred years became sovereign in its own right.

Or something like that. I confess I wasn't paying attention: I was still thinking about Guinea-Bissau.

After that it was a test on my French, which I like to think is adequate, but is apparently severely lacking for a country so close to France. I didn't mention it was actually closer to Germany and Spain.

Honestly, abdicating is sounding more and more appealing.

But then I'm promised a dress fitting all of a sudden I'm so ready to be princess, bring on the politics! I'm weak.

* * *

 _ **Saturday, June 9, 10:41 pm**_

 _ **My room**_

Tuney wasn't home when I got there, but mum was. She'd made me a sandwich, and I nearly cried with relief. I hate being mad at her, because despite the LIES she's a truly wonderful mum.

"I watched your interview," she said, sitting down across the table from me and sliding a glass of water towards me. "You were very eloquent, sweetheart."

I snorted. "Sure. Thanks, mum."

She smiled gently. "I think you've handled this all so well. After you eat, do you want me to help you pack for Hogwarts? It's usually quite warm, if I recall, especially in the summer."

I paused, chewing and swallowing before speaking again. "You've been?"

"Of course!" Mum said dreamily, gazing up at the ceiling light as if it were the sun. "It's where I met your father. I was on vacation for a week, which turned into a month...which turned into longer."

"How long?"

Mum blinked, refocusing on me. "Well...we were never married, sweetheart. I'd brought Petunia, left her in our hotel with my mum—just a girls' vacation—and your father bought us an apartment after three weeks. Petunia simply adored him; she was so young she thought he was _her_ father. And when I became pregnant with you...I asked him to go along with it."

"But you knew he was a prince."

"I did." Mum sighed again, reaching out for a sip of my water. "But I thought he would have a more...legitimate child. I thought he _did._ It wasn't until recently, when he died, that your position as sole heir came to light." She gazed into the glass. "I wish you'd gotten a chance to meet him. You had the same sense of humor."

When I saw tears in her eyes I started eating faster, desperately wanting to get out of this conversation. "Absolutely you can help me pack," I spat through a full mouth, backtracking to a more comfortable topic. "I wish you could come with."

"Oh, me too, darling, but I think it's better if you're plunged into this new world completely. Rather like jumping into the deep end of the pool first, right?" Mum seemed to come back to herself, handing me back the glass of water (now almost empty; thanks, mum) and clearing her throat.

I put the plate in the sink and the two of us went back to my room, where I pulled down my trunk from the closet and mum started opening drawers. "So, where's Tuney?" I asked conversationally, unlatching the trunk.

"She went to Yvonne's house," Mum said, laying out a few T-shirts on my duvet. "I think she's staying there until Tuesday."

"She's avoiding me," I muttered.

"Oh, darling, no!" Mum's eyes widened, and she dropped my Beatles shirt on the floor. I winced as John Lennon landed face down. "She'll come see you off, of course! I think she just...felt a little out of place, in the midst of all this craziness. I think she just wanted a breath of fresh air."

I decided against contesting this. "Okay," I said, folding the shirts into to trunk. "Thanks for helping me, mum."

"Always, sweetheart."

See, mum is so kind, if completely naive. But I love her to pieces, just as I love Tuney, as much as she exasperates me. Growing up I never minded not knowing my dad, because I had two kickass older women looking after me, and that was all I ever needed.

Right now my dad is playing a bigger role in my life than he ever has before, except maybe at the moment of my conception, and I don't like it.

* * *

A/N

Hello my lovelies! A shorter chapter, but don't worry—Lily will be on her way to Hogwarts very soon! I got such sweet reviews for the last three chapters, it really means a lot to me. Also, the next chapter of TR100 will be up as soon as I've finished with it!

To tide you over, next time on Royal Blues: Lily talks with Snape! Lily arrives in the Palace! Lily discovers a mortal enemy! Am I exaggerating? Maybe! Maybe not!

Let me know what you think. Love you all!

xoxo,

Alys


	5. A Palace Fit for a Princess

CHAPTER FIVE - A Palace Fit for a Princess

 ** _Sunday, June 10, 12:52 pm_**

 ** _Limo on the way to the embassy_**

I'm glad I packed last night, because apparently we're taking a private Hogwarts jet. Today. In three hours.

McGonagall called my flat at ten this morning, informing me that due to the extenuating circumstances (i.e., my being revealed as a princess to the world), not only would I be leaving a day early, I would be assigned a bodyguard upon arrival at the airport, and he will stick with me for, like, ever.

I'm not sure if she meant London Heathrow, or the Hogwarts airport (what even is its name? I know far too little about the country I was born to govern), but either way, this is going to suck. I don't need some buff middle-aged man hovering over me every step of the way, telling me to "GET DOWN, PRINCESS" whenever someone unidentified walks into the room.

Maybe I watch too many movies. IDK.

McGonagall says she'll be waiting in the lobby to continue our princess lessons, this time about laws in Hogwarts and their enforcement, and we'll continue on the plane.

I can hardly wait.

Oh, looks like I won't have to. We're here.

* * *

 ** _Sunday, June 10, 2:11 pm_**

 ** _Hogwarts Embassy_**

I'm taking notes right now, but we're leaving in about fifteen minutes for the airport. I guess with a private jet you don't really have to worry about being two hours early, or even on-time, huh?

McGonagall's giving me the stink eye. Time to _actually_ take notes.

\- Those over seventeen are considered of age, for both the army and drinking. Yippee!

\- Law enforcement officers in Hogwarts are called 'Aurors', operate under the Ministry's jurisdiction

\- Ministry enforces laws and oversees education and foreign affairs, but report to the queen directly.

\- Queen must hold monthly throne room sessions, where commoners are invited to petition her. It's a tradition, apparently. This goes on for seven hours, or until the line of peasants—sorry, commonfolk—is depleted.

\- An endangered species of bird called the Phoenix lives in the castle. His name is Fawkes, and if he dies, the country will be in mourning for seven months. I don't get it.

\- The county's crest has the crest of the four neighboring countries on it. This I also don't get.

Okay, I think she's satisfied I've taken enough notes, she's not watching me very closely anymore. She told me earlier that there's going to be a ball in my honor tonight, and others leading up to my coronation. Tonight? I'm going to look so GROSS, just off the plane and jet lagged (I think there's a one or two hour time difference between the UK and Hogwarts). I don't want to immediately be presentable! Besides, if we leave at three, and that's a two hour flight, factor in the two hour time difference...that's seven in the evening!

Actually, that's a fine time for a ball. Dammit. Also, Prince James has been invited. Yes, I'll have to meet him in person, after he commented on my flustered refusal to even consider a marriage alliance. Not that that was ever even up in the air! Apparently that Skeeter woman is not a very respected journalist, mostly gossip columns (that she stirs up herself, no doubt!) so hopefully no one will really take that seriously.

But what an asshole, snidely calling me "eloquent". I can only hope I'll be able to refrain from punching him in the nose after he bows and I curtsy in greeting. OH! That's another thing I should take notes on:

\- Crown princess will curtsy to visiting princes, princesses, kings, queens, etc. She will not curtsy to anyone below her station.

\- A queen will always curtsy to those of her station and above when visiting, but never in her own castle.

This is very confusing. What if I cause a scandal, bending my knee at the wrong time and making it look like I'm curtsying to a lowly duke?

My phone is buzzing in my pocket, but I can't answer it right now. I did that once, pulled my phone out in front of McGonagall, and she slapped it out of my hand. My case broke, but the phone itself was fine. Bloody lucky. I'd have sued her.

It's probably just Marlene, wishing me off.

What if it's Severus, though? I haven't talked to him at _all_ since Marlene mentioned she'd seen him following Nazis, but...he didn't do anything or say ANYTHING to me. He didn't even say anything to her! God, what if he thinks that now I'm princess I'm some snob who blows off her friends? What if he's calling RIGHT NOW to tell me we're not mates anymore?

I have to take this call. I'm going to the bathroom.

* * *

 ** _Sunday, June 10, 2:58 pm_**

 ** _Limo on the way to the airport_**

It was just mum, letting me know I'd forgotten my phone charger at home. I'll just buy another at the airport, no big deal. But that freakout about Sev got me thinking, so as soon as McGonagall released me to the limo (she's taking her own limo, I've no idea why she refuses to travel with me) I called him.

He picked up on the fourth ring. "Lily," he said. I couldn't read his tone. "How nice of you to call."

"I'm sorry I haven't talked to you," I said. "But you knew, didn't you? You knew who my dad was and you didn't tell me. You even agreed to be _interviewed,_ Sev! By Rita Skeeter!"

Sev hesitated. "Well...yes. I'd seen the news that morning, but I knew you were hurting, Lily, and I didn't want to be the one to break it to you. And as for the interview, the cameras were rolling before I could even argue! I just had to go with it and try to spin things the best I could, for you. I know you'd have done the same for me. Maybe I could come over, we can talk?"

Ugh, how can I fault him for being so damn sweet? "It's okay," I said. "I'm actually on my way to the airport. I'm leaving for Hogwarts."

"What?" He sounded breathless. "Now? I never got to see you off!"

"It's okay," I said quickly. "No one really did. I wasn't expecting to leave until tomorrow, I was planning on dropping by tonight...but my schedule is kind of out of my hands now."

Sev exhaled through his nose. "That's bloody awful.  
I laughed weakly. "Tell me about it."

"I saw your press conference," he said. "That Skeeter woman's awful, isn't she? When she interviewed me I thought she was going to bite my head off. When I mentioned we were friends she just sort of pounced, asking if we'd ever dated—"

I burst out laughing. "I'll bet she did. Did you hear that question she asked me? Would I marry Prince James? Like, did she ask _him?_ What if I'd said yes?"

"Of course you wouldn't have," Sev said, his voice taking on an edge. "You deserve better than Prince bloody James."

I sobered up at that, remembering yet again what Marlene had said. I debated bringing it up, but I didn't want to make things awkward between us. I also tend to avoid conflict amongst my friends—probably a bad quality in a future queen. "Yeah," I said, trying to keep my voice light. "Maybe like King Riddle from Slytherin. God, he creeps me out."

"He's not all bad."

I blinked three times, actually pulled the phone away from my ear, and then spoke again. "Not all bad?" I repeated. "Sev, did you _see_ what he said about the refugees coming into Europe? He said that we need to send them _back._ That's certain death."

"I didn't say I agreed with everything he said! Look, can we just talk about something else? How long will you be in Hogwarts?"

I exhaled, not wanting to argue. I kind of wish I had, though. I want to know what he _did_ agree on with King Riddle. "I don't know," I admitted. "Again, they don't tell me much of anything."

"As princess, shouldn't they tell you everything? Shouldn't you be the one telling other people?"

I snorted. "I wish." I glanced out the tinted window, staring at all the regular cars. Were they wondering who was so special as to ride in the limo? What made me so special, so uniquely qualified to rule over people like them? A circumstantial birth, that's what. I've done nothing to deserve this.

Sev hesitated before saying, "Maybe if you're staying for over a month, I could come visit you. In Hogwarts. I've always wanted to go."

Relief rushed over me like a wave at a Brighton beach. "That would be wonderful," I said. "I'd love it."

"Right, then," he said, sounding pleased. "Call me as soon as you figure out the arrangements, yeah?"

"I will, I promise."

"I have to run, Lily. I'll talk to you later." He sounded like he wanted to say something more, but then he hung up. I felt immensely better after talking to Severus, but a little guilty, too. I think before I get on the plane I'll call Marlene. Maybe that'll make me feel less guilty, and maybe she'll come visit me too!

God, I'm talking like I'm going to bloody prison, not a palace.

* * *

 ** _Sunday, June 10, 4:03 pm_**

 ** _Jet to Hogwarts!_**

Okay, now that it's actually happening I'm really excited. This jet is GORGEOUS! Suede seats, flight attendants who brought me champagne (I hated it, I actually spat it all out, much to McGonagall's disgust, but still!) and tablets with any movie I could possibly want to watch!

Of course, I'm not allowed to. I'm going to be having some more lessons from McGonagall, before we get to the palace, where I'll have more tutors with names like Flitwick and Sprout, on more specific subjects. But I told her that a crown princess deserves to have at least an hour of relaxation, which she's grudgingly allowed me.

So I read some of _Emma_ (I do love Jane Austen!) and decided to write in here. My bodyguard met me on the tarmac, and he is simply wonderful.

His name is Hagrid, he's gigantic, has a huge beard, and the kindest heart of anyone I've ever met. He calls me "princess", but from him it sounds like endearment, where from anyone else it sounds like a title. Right now he's reading a tiny paperback copy of a book about dragons. I love him so much.

Oh, and I did call Marlene before the plane took off! She told me not to feel guilty about Sev, especially as he seems harmless right now, and she says she'll only come visit if I let Alice and Frank and Mary come too! Oh, I can't wait. Maybe I'll be allowed to throw a ball in their honor! Can crown princesses throw balls just for the hell of it?

I just asked McGonagall. She says technically yes, though she would advise having a reason.

Um, good friends are always a reason!

Oh no. Am I letting power go to my head already?

Hagrid says no, I'm probably just giddy with excitement. He's so right. I'm practically bouncing in my seat with nerves. How am I going to be expected to sit through some boring (but necessary) lesson on laws when I'm this EXCITED?

Hagrid recommends I lay off the caffeinated sodas. He's probably right.

* * *

 ** _Sunday, June 10, 7:21 pm_**

 ** _The palace!_**

I'm in my room, and it's GIGANTIC. I can't even describe it, but I'm going to try. There's a huge gilded bed with a gigantic deep red canopy, huge floor-to-ceiling windows that look out on sweeping lawns, a walk-in closet the size of my flat back in London, and marble floors and counters. Also, a built-in bathroom with golden faucets, the closet is FULL of gorgeous dresses and clothes and jewelry (and I even spied a few tiaras!), and two maids I can call with a bell.

That last one is weird. I don't plan on touching the bell.

Right now, I'm perched in front of a gorgeous vanity, having my hair done by some professional hair dresser, and this woman who asked me to call her Madam Malkin (I think McGonagall mentioned her having a sweet boutique in Hogwarts, but I guess she makes house calls for royalty) measured me for my gown. I don't know how she plans on tailoring a gown in under ten minutes, but she looks hard at work in the corner. I can't see anything she's doing right now, but I think I see a bit of light blue—that should compliment my eyes, at least. I shudder to think what I'd look like in red velvet.

The hair dresser just read that over my shoulder and says Madam Malkin would never dress _anyone_ in velvet in June. Guess I'm safe for now, then!

This is fabulous. My hair is up in a perfect chignon, something I've never been able to do at home, and my makeup is being applied _for_ me. I usually don't like wearing blush and eyeshadow, but this woman really knows how to make it look nice.

I feel so helpless, just sitting here and letting people work on me. In fact, I'm writing without looking right now. My head is tilted very far back for eyeliner. I think in the future, I'll do my own hair and makeup.

* * *

 ** _Sunday, June 11, 7:49 pm_**

 ** _Ladies' room off the ballroom_**

Bloody James Potter. Damn press conference.

Let me back way up, though. I'm seething so badly, I need to get this _all_ down.

Madam Malkin fitted me into the most gorgeous dress I've ever worn—hell, the most gorgeous dress I've ever seen in real life. It was floor-length; a lovely periwinkle blue with the off-the-shoulder sleeves did wonders for my neck. My feet were slipped into matching heels—I tried to tell them I could put on the shoes myself, but no one listens to me anymore—and I was given white satin gloves that hit my elbows.

I was led from my room, down a few halls and dizzying amounts of stairs, until we reached a huge pair of double doors. "Ready, Princess?" Hagrid asked me. I nodded shakily, and the two guards stationed on either side pushed the doors open in unison, revealing a small balcony over a large room, packed with people, food, and a string quartet on a small stage in the corner.

Everyone fell silent as I stepped forward onto the balcony, just as McGonagall had instructed, their faces turned up to me. My head spun just looking at them. A man in a suit—well, all the men were in suits or tuxedos, but he looked very _official_ —stepped forward, raising his voice (even though there was absolute silence). "Introducing Princess Lillian Iris Evans, Crown Princess of Hogwarts!"

There was a polite round of applause, as I nodded and smiled, trying to make eye contact with as many people as possible. I think I spotted a few celebrities I'd seen on TV, but I was too nervous to tell. When the applause stopped, I gathered my skirts and made my way towards the marble staircase to the side of the balcony, the only noise in the room the clicking of my heels.

The worst part would be at the bottom. McGonagall had informed me that once I entered the room, no one would be able to dance until I did, and as crown princess it was imperative that I not ask anyone to dance, as I did not yet know the eligible bachelors, and to show favor to the wrong people would be disastrous.

So I had to just hope someone asked me to dance. One of the butlers was assigned the task of swooping in if thirty seconds went by of awkward silence, but I had hoped not to need him.

I needn't have worried. I reached the bottom of the stairs and immediately a young man was in front of me, a roguish grin on his face. "Might I have this dance, Princess?"

I swallowed, suddenly terrified to be faced with a real live boy who wanted my attention. I simply nodded, and took his proffered hand. Immediately the strings started up again to a lively waltz, and I breathed a silent _thank you_ to whoever picked the setlist for picking a dance I knew how to do.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Princess Lillian," the young man said. I still hadn't actually looked at him—I was still craning my neck to see if McGonagall was paying attention to how wonderfully I was doing.

"Please, call me Lily," I said automatically, finally turning back to him. And gasping. "Prince James!" I said, unfortunately probably sounding like a breathless fangirl of his. "I—I didn't see you. Before."

He smiled a little wider. "I'm hurt. Seeing as we're dancing. And it's just James, actually."

"I'm sorry," I said, lifting my hand off his shoulder and pressing it to my mouth. "I'm sort of new to all of this. I'm still navigating social...stuff," I finished lamely.

"I think you're handling yourself quite well," he said, as we spun towards the edge of the dance floor, past swirling dresses and twirling shoes.

I managed a small smile, my hand back in its place on his shoulder. "I'm glad you think so."

"That press conference, for instance," he continued, a teasing smile on his face. "I really liked it."

It was then I remembered how he'd mocked me, and I stopped dead at the edge of the floor. "Right," I said, my voice a deadly calm. "Of course." I dropped my hands. "Thank you, Prince James, for the dance, but I'm feeling rather light-headed. I think I'll sit down."

I left him on the dance floor and fled to the bathroom, where I am now. The asshole. It's not enough that he has to make fun of me in the press, but he has to do it to my face, as well? The nerve of some people!

Ohhh, McGonagall came looking for me. I have to go.

* * *

 ** _Sunday, June 11, 10:35 pm_**

 ** _Ladies' room off the ballroom._**

Jet lag is going to kill me, if McGonagall doesn't do it first. Apparently it's horribly rude to disappear during a ball in one's honor! Who'd have thought!

I'm being sarcastic. I hadn't intended on being gone for so long, but I just got so MAD I had to write everything. When I came back out, things got...weird.

I was immediately swept up into a dance by a charming young man with long black hair. "Sirius Black," he introduced himself with a smile.

"Lily Evans," I responded, then winced, because of course he knew that.

He didn't react to my blunder. "I saw you talking with my mate James earlier," he said, still smiling relentlessly.

My own polite smile melted off my face. "Yes, well," I said coldly. "He certainly made an impression."

"He talks out his ass," Sirius said, the smile not fading for an instance, even as my feet fumbled in surprise. "I'm not sure what he said to you, but behind your back, he really admires you."

I blinked a few times before managing, "Really."

"Yeah. He really thinks you've been handling this all spectacularly, better than he could have. I'm not just being his wingman here—I mean, he asked me to, but I'm telling you he did, so that must count for something, right?" He took on more of a desperate look.

"Right." We continued our dance, around and around, past dignitaries and celebrities, our conversation somehow existing in a bubble that no one could puncture.

"Just...give James another chance, please. He's been going on and on about you since he saw you on TV, fancies himself in love with you or something—"

My cheeks flamed up. "Th-that's ridiculous," I interrupted. It probably wasn't very princessy of me. "He doesn't even know me!"

"Try telling him that," Sirius said darkly. "He's over by the desserts, if you want to try again. Remus is over there too, in case it goes awfully and you need an out."

"You've really thought of everything," I said faintly. My eyes drifted over to the dessert table, croquembouche towering high above the cupcake platters and bowls of strawberries. Sure enough, Prince James was nursing a glass of wine, glancing around furtively, accompanied by a shabbier-looking young man, who was tasting a chocolate cake, his eyes narrowed at the fork as it entered his mouth. The second he did so he took on a rapturous expression, and said something to James, offering his plate. James shook his head, and I could see him looking for me. I turned my gaze back to Sirius quickly before he could catch me staring.

Sirius was smirking. "Go on," he said. "This song is over anyways."

And he was right; the strings faded out as he spoke. I turned to him, amazed.

"I listen to a lot of classical music," he said, his cheeks reddening slightly. "It's a...guilty pleasure."

"Hmph." I glanced once more towards the dessert table. "You're a wonderful wingman. Do you do freelance?"

His face broke out into a grin. "For the right price."

"Thank you for the dance," I said, the formalities flowing from my mouth automatically (thanks, McGonagall!) but my attention was on the dark-haired, bespectacled boy tasting chocolate cake over a glass of wine. I made my way over, grabbing a glass myself off of a passing waiter. "Your friend is really something," I said, by way of introduction.

James looked shocked, handing the plate of cake back off to the young man Sirius had called Remus. "Princess! I'm so sorry about earlier—I mean, I'm not sure what I said, but _something_ caused you offense, and I didn't mean it for a heartbeat—"

This mess of a boy was so at odds with the suave prince I'd met before I was thrown. "Er—it's just Lily," I reminded him. "And it's quite alright. I just...I thought you were mocking me."

"I would never," he said solemnly. "Oh, how rude! Lily, this is Remus, one of my advisors. Remus, Princess Lily."

"Your Highness." Remus bowed, smiling kindly. "I saw you already met Sirius."

"Another advisor," James said. "Just missing Peter, poor bloke's sick upstairs somewhere. I've found it's easier when they're your friends—your advisors, I mean. They don't worry about disagreeing with you."

"I'll keep it in mind," I said, surprised to find myself smiling. "How long will you be staying in Hogwarts?"

"A few days," James said, glancing at Remus. "I think the intention was to see how you settled in, offer diplomatic relations, and all that shit." His eyes widened. "I mean—I mean, all that...stuff."

I smiled. "I'm from London," I said. "I don't give a fuck."

James laughed. "I was in London last summer," he said, running a hand through his hair. "Where was it...I stayed in—"

"The Langham," I said. "I remember. My friend Marlene was staked out at the British museum for three days. She was convinced you'd go there. Something about you loving natural history?"

Remus snorted, and Sirius sidled up with a smirk as the next song began. "More like he's a huge nerd who loves museums."

"I never got to go," James said wistfully.

"I know that too," I said, smiling wider. "Marlene was devastated. She wanted to talk politics with you."

He grimaced. "She'd have been disappointed."

"She's hard to disappoint," I said lightly. "She's friends with me, isn't she?"

"Hey, Lily, someone's glaring at you," Remus said. "Isn't that the deputy chief advisor or something?"

McGonagall was not just glaring—she was marching over.

"Shit," I said, frantically gathering my skirts into my hands. "I'm supposed to be mingling. We'll catch up later, yeah?"

"Yeah," James said. "We're staying in the palace, so—"

I squeezed between two elderly women and was out of earshot. "Hello," I said to a middle-aged man in a tux, smiling as if I hadn't just been...was I flirting? "Lovely to see you here. Thank you for coming."

I wove between the crowd expertly, as only someone from a big city could. Talking about Marlene had made me ridiculously homesick. And what had James meant, she would have been disappointed?

More than that—how had I been so comfortable with them? It was as if we were already friends...were they just that magnetic?

"Princess Lillian."

I was broken from my musings by a high, cold voice. I looked up into a pale, bald head and narrowed eyes. "King Riddle." I fell into a curtsey—technically, for now, he was above my station. "What a pleasure to see you here."

"Yes," he said. "It _is_ important that _some_ noble blood be present in the castle of our ancestors."

My heart sped up. "E-Excuse me?"

His eyes swept up and down critically. "You, _Princess,_ are barely a half-blood at best. Simply a statement of fact. Have you given any more thought to the prospect of abdication? I'm sure someone more... _suitable_ would be willing to step in."

I got the feeling that, somehow, he meant himself.

NOTE TO SELF: ask McGonagall who's in line for the throne if I mysteriously die. This doesn't bode well.

"I haven't given any more or less thought on the matter of my rule, other than it _is_ my birthright, and abdication would be a last resort," I responded coldly. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I must greet my other guests."

I slipped away and socialized until I felt like I would drop, then came in here.

And I'm scared.

* * *

 ** _Monday, June 12, 12:03 am_**

 ** _My room_**

Something terrible has happened.

I think I have a crush on the Prince of Gryffindor.

I escaped from my encounter with King Riddle visibly shaken, and even though I tried to hide it, I emerged from the ladies' room jumpier than before. I navigated my way back to the dessert table, but James and his friends/advisors had moved on. I loaded up on chocolate instead, hoping to calm my nerves, when someone lay a hand on my shoulder.

I very nearly punched him in the face, but recognized James' smiling face. "What happened?" he asked. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"It's nothing," I said quickly. "Just...all the people. I'm completely unprepared, I think McGonagall enjoys watching me flounder...it's like she's trying to prove to me that I can't do this, and the country would be better off if I abdicate." I couldn't believe I just told him that. The words spilled out of my mouth like water, and I couldn't shove them back in. I tried to laugh half-heartedly, as if I was joking, but his brow just furrowed in concern.

"Do you want to get out of here?" he asked.

I laughed again. "I can't leave my own party early. But thanks."

"Then dance with me," James said, offering his hand. "It'll keep you occupied, I promise." There, his charming smile was back. I very nearly refused, wanting to keep an eye out for Riddle, but something about him was magnetic.

"Okay."

He swept me back into the waltz, and though I tried not to, I kept looking over his shoulder, hoping to catch a glimpse of the Slytherin king.

"I can't help but feel that your mind is elsewhere," James said as he whirled me around. "Want to talk about it?"

"No—yes," I changed my mind abruptly. "How well do you know King Riddle?"

James exhaled through his nose. "Officially, he's an important trade partner and a firm yet benevolent ruler. Unofficially? He's a piece of work, and I don't trust him further than I could throw him."

I wrinkled my nose. "He called me a half-blood."

James stopped dead, and I had to pull him back into the dance. "He _what?"_ he hissed, his eyes the size of Hogwarts pumpkins.

I shrugged. "Yes, it was rather uncomfortable. He also insinuated that if I should abdicate—which he recommended—he would take charge."

James lifted his hand off my waist to run a hand through his hair. "I—blimey, I'm not sure. I'd have to check. I'm sure there's a family tree somewhere in the palace here, some line of succession..."

"We can look tomorrow," I said. He looked at me strangely. "I—I mean, you'll be here tomorrow, right? You're staying in the guest wing. I'm supposed to get a tour, some meeting, then have some more lessons, but after that...we could investigate Riddle. See what he might be up to."

A smile broke across his face. "It's a date," he said.

"It's not a date!" I blurted out. "It's investigative journalism."

James raised an eyebrow. "Journalism?"

"If necessary," I said defensively. The song ended, and we stopped dancing. I yawned, and McGonagall appeared by my side. She curtsied low to James.

"Your Highness," she said, then turned to address me. "You look dead on your feet, Lillian. I see you've mingled well enough—you may retire to your chambers if you so desire."

"Thank you," I breathed. "I'll see you tomorrow. What time should I set my alarm?"

McGonagall scoffed. "A maid will wake you at seven o'clock sharp."

I let out a groan, but a sharp look from McGonagall shut me up. "I mean, yes ma'am. Thank you ma'am." She shot me another glare before sweeping away.

"I'll meet you in the library tomorrow," I said to James. "I don't even know my own schedule, though, so I'm not sure when—"

"I'll find out," he said. He was watching me with the most curious expression on his face. "Let me walk you back to your room."

I blinked, surprised. No one had every offered to walk me somewhere before. "Oh, that's fine," I said. "I doubt I'll be mugged in this place. I _am_ the princess, after all."

"Do you know your way back?" he asked, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

He had me there. "Fine," I grumbled. "But you have to get me coffee tomorrow. McGonagall won't let me have any—she says I have an unhealthy obsession."

"You strike me as someone who would have an unhealthy obsession with coffee."

"Hey!"

Two guards held the doors of the ballroom open for me, and as soon as we were out of sight I stopped to pull off my heels. I let out a moan of ecstasy.

"That sounded ridiculously sexual."

I lobbed one of my pumps at him. "If you had to walk around in these for hours, and _dance_ in them, you'd be relieved to have them off too!"

James gallantly held my shoes for me as we walked, my throbbing feet pressing agains the blessedly cool marble floor. "Tell me more about this friend of yours, Marlene."

"Oh," I said, having forgot all about her. "She's wonderful. She loves politics, something that gets her in so much trouble at school, and she's just...vivacious. But she's kind, and she's attentive..." I trailed off. "I miss her."

"She can visit," James said.

I smiled, trying to be cheerful. "She will. So will my friend Sev, and hopefully Alice and Frank."

"I look forward to meeting them." We rounded a corner that looked like all the others, ornate paintings on the walls, statues and busts of ancestors I didn't know. I don't know how he knew his way around.

I laughed. "Not Sev. He hates you." As soon as the words left my mouth I regretted them. James blinked, his brow furrowing. He used his free hand to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"He doesn't know me," James said. "How does he hate me?"

How did I describe Severus? "He's stubborn," I said. "And...well, conservative." I said this like it explained everything, but James didn't look understanding.

"And you're not."

"No," I said. "Politically, I agree with _you_ on practically everything."

"You agree with my parents," James muttered. "I'm rarely allowed to have an opinion on my own."

I blinked. "So...you don't believe what you say in the press? About your country?"

"No, no, I agree with my parents on just about everything," James amended. "I just hate not having any power of my own. It's incredibly frustrating that—" he bit his words off, like if he continued he would reveal something incredibly personal. "I'm glad to meet someone who understands."

"Well...I don't," I said, as he drew to an abrupt halt. "But I expect I will soon. What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he said, a grin appearing on his face again. "This is your room."

"Oh." The door looked exactly like all the others, except there was a painting of a fat woman in a pink dress on the opposite wall. "I suppose now I should curtsy, throw a shoe at you, and run away?"

James waggled my heels at me tauntingly. "One down, two to go!"

Laughing, I took them back from him. "Really, though. Thank you. This evening could have gone very, very badly." Thinking of Riddle, I suppressed a shudder. "It very nearly did."

"Yes, well." James shifted from foot to foot. "I don't make the best first impressions."

"Oh! No, not you," I said hastily. I put a hand on the doorknob. "I'll see you tomorrow, then?"

James grinned wider. "Unless you want to invite me in now."

I threatened him with my shoe. "If walking in these hurts, imagine how it must feel to have one aimed at your head!"

"Relax, Cinderella. I would never ruin your virtue."

I stuck my tongue out. "What an archaic, dehumanizing thing to say."

James bowed comically. "On the morrow, then, my lady."

I gave an unladylike snort. "And I thought _I_ was the jet-lagged one."

He smiled at me, a delighted smile, as if he couldn't help but be happy, just to look at me. It terrified me, but...I also kinda liked it. And from the way my cheeks are hurting, I'm pretty sure I was smiling right back. Probably looked like a right git, too.

When I shut the door behind me I freaked out silently for a few seconds, my hands fluttering and my mouth open in a silent shriek. I was excited, I was happy, I was scared and I was homesick. But then I looked back at my closed door, and pictured James on the other side of it. There's really nothing better than being a princess in a castle with a handsome prince who has a crush on you.

* * *

A/N

I'm so tired I'm falling asleep sitting up, but I wanted to post this before I go to bed. My first college application deadline is next month, so I'm going to try and get another chapter each of TR100 and RB before December, so I can not be stressed. (Oh, who am I kidding? I'll always be stressed!)

But so yeah, if I'm as productive as I hope, you'll get two new chapters by November 30, and then none until late December.

About the chapter! I loved writing this so much, it's actually been done for a while, but I wanted the Lily/James meeting to sit for a while, until I decided I was happy with it, and I think I am.

Next time: James writes an entry.

Also, this chapter is FIVE THOUSAND WORDS. Don't say I never did anything nice for you all! :P Have a wonderful morning/day/night!

All my love,

Alys


	6. Harried Princess

CHAPTER SIX - Harried Princess

 _ **Monday, June 12, 7:03 am**_

 _ **The Royal Dining room**_

I regret everything.

God, I didn't get any sleep last night. Between the jet lag and excitement and exhaustion, I hardly slept a wink. I was awoken three minutes ago by a maid, speaking apologetically but loudly near my ear about how McGonagall was expecting me in the kitchen right now, if you don't mind, but she does, really, so if I could just get down there, please, maybe she wouldn't be yelled at.

I just can't have that poor girl being yelled at on my conscious.

I stumbled out of bed, still in my lovely satin pajamas. Matching slippers were waiting by my closet door, and I feel like I'm walking on a cloud.

The maid kindly led me through the maze of hallways and staircases that I swear moved from last night and into the royal dining room. The long table is lavishly covered in fruits and jams and toasts and literally anything I could ever want for breakfast, only about quadruple the amount.

A few other noble visitors from last night are here, too, eating and chatting and looking tired, but for the most part the hall is empty. I expect most of the guests will be flying out today, but some (like Prince James!) will be staying around for a little longer.

On a very very sad note, every time the door opens I look up, hoping it's him. I need help.

McGonagall isn't even here yet, so I've helped myself to a very large cup of coffee, with three sugars, thank you very much. I can hardly focus; I'm so excited about meeting James later today to research Riddle. I mean, the subject matter is hardly thrilling, in fact, it's rather terrifying, but I want to know. Am I in danger?

The answer is yes. McGonagall just got here.

* * *

 _ **Monday, June 12, 8:31 am**_

 _ **Hidden room off the third floor corridor**_

I found this place during the tour. A huge pack of visitors (curiously missing James and his entourage) and tourists were tagging along, but I was dressed in civilian clothes, so no one even knew it was me!

That was McGonagall's idea. She said that I should see how the world sees my palace, and then I'll get the inner tour. It was pretty cool, hearing them all chatter excitedly about possibly laying eyes on me, but a lot of it was pretty boring. I liked the hidden trapdoors and secret speakeasies way more than Throne Room #4 or Residential Wing #32.

McGonagall gave me thirty minutes off between the tour and the meeting with the Lord of whatever and his wife, the equally fascinating Lady of whatever. She told me to explore. Well, actually she "advised me to familiarize myself with the palace", which is what I'm doing. With my diary. Hidden inside an alcove, avoiding responsibility.

Is it too much to ask that I find some old document claiming that Hogwarts is actually a constitutional monarchy?

I searched this hidden room, and the only thing in here is dust. Well, dust and me.

Dust and Me. The all-new alt-rock band, coming to you this summer, only in London and Hogwarts!

I'm _exhausted,_ if you can't tell. And I'm still worried about Riddle. Knowing he's in the castle somewhere, _scheming..._

I'm probably over exaggerating, I know. But still, I think I'll feel much better once James and I meet in the library, and go over my line of succession. I can't help but wonder if we're related—royal families often are, I'd heard. I hate to say it, but I'd be very disappointed if we were.

Something about this feels like I'm betraying Sev. It's ridiculous, I know, but he _hates_ James with such a ridiculous passion...

Hang on, is someone coming in?

* * *

 ** _Monday, June 12, 8:55 am_**

 ** _Waiting for precisely 9:00 to go into the tea room to meet the Lord and Lady of Whatever_**

Good news: the person who found me was my new personal assistant, Hestia. Better news: Hestia is literally the best. She's about a year above me, with long dark hair and bright blue eyes, and the second she saw me, she swore fluently.

"Shit, _bugger_ it all, cock-sucking shite mother—"

"Holy shit," I said, alarmed, looking up.

Hestia blinked at me a few seconds. "This is _my_ hiding spot," she said unabashedly. "Besides, tourists can't hide anywhere in the castle. I'm assistant to the Crown Princess, I have the authority to throw you out."

I got to my feet slowly, closing my diary. "I don't have an assistant," I said warily.

"Of course you don't," Hestia said with a snort. And then she got a good look at me and all the blood drained from her face. "Oh my god."

I smiled grimly. "Yep."

"I'msosorry," she gushed, throwing herself into a curtsy so awkward that I felt it was my duty not as princess but as a human being to stop her. "I had no idea—I didn't mean to swear at you, or yell—or call you a tourist—please, your Highness, I'm so sorry—"

"Oh my god, it's fine," I interrupted, grabbing her arm and pulling her back up. "Please, please stop. It was so refreshing. Everyone's always tiptoeing around me—except McGonagall, she tells me exactly what she thinks of me—"

Hestia's eyes widened. "McGonagall? Oh, I love her! She taught us English at Beauxbatons, she's so fantastic."

"Are we talking about the same McGonagall?"

A hand flew to her mouth, her pinky nail firmly between her top and bottom incisors. "Ohmigosh, princess, but of course you'd know best. I should escort you back to your room—did you appreciate the tour earlier? It was _early,_ right? I considered putting you in the afternoon one, but McGonagall said it was better for you to wake with the sun—"

"Please," I begged. "I don't want another maid who just curtsies and scurries away from me when she's afraid she's offended me. I'm ridiculously lonely in this castle. The only person who's talked to me like a _human_ is Prince James and his friends...here." I stuck out my hand. "Lily Evans of London. And princess," I added as an afterthought.

A smile tugged at the corner of Hestia's mouth. "Hestia Jones," she said, taking my hand. "Of Hogwarts. Assistant to the princess."

We both sat down cross-legged on the floor, my diary squarely in my lap, and proceeded to talk. It was _wonderful._

 _A LIST OF THINGS I KNOW ABOUT HESTIA_

\- has a hiding place that is the same as mine

\- recently graduated from Beauxbatons Academy, one of the most prestigious secondary schools in Hogwarts

\- loves McGonagall (for some reason)

\- was going to be introduced to me at dinner tonight as Personal Assistant to the Crown Princess of Hogwarts, aka me

\- is friends with Prince James—they went to SCHOOL TOGETHER!

And apparently so will I.

"Excuse me?" I demanded, as she mentioned in passing that she's sure he'll be thrilled to see me in class. "I go to school in London. I'll be going back at the end of summer."

Hestia chewed on her right pinkie nail (a gesture I was learning meant she was nervous). "But...McGonagall had me sign you up. Classes start September first, orientation is in three days—they do it early in the summer, so students can spend the time preparing—it's on your calendar!"  
"I don't have a calendar!" I yelped. "I've been going where McGonagall shepherds me! I can't go to school here, I have _friends_ back in London—besides, I only _agreed_ to this bloody summer. I didn't even agree to take the throne—" My hands flew to my mouth as Hestia's jaw dropped. "Please don't tell anyone else," I begged. "No one but McGonagall and me know, I think."

Hestia's mouth flattened into a thin line, much like McGonagall's did when she was upset or disappointed. "Okay," she said. "First things first, I'll get you your calendar for the week." She got to her feet and offered me a hand, which I took. "Then I'll look into this school thing."

"Can I ask a teensy favor?" I asked as she opened the door to the third-floor corridor. The room is cleverly hidden behind a large, intricately woven tapestry depicting the crowning of one of the early kings of Hogwarts, Fytherley Undercliffe. I only know because there's a small bronze plaque next to the tapestry. Hestia nodded, leading the way back to my rooms (something I'm extremely grateful for—I've still no idea how to navigate this place, despite the tour). "Can you make sure I never wake up before nine o'clock ever again?"

Hestia snorted. "I'll do my best, Princess, but there's no way to guarantee it. McGonagall may like me, but even I'm not that good."

"Don't call me that," I said automatically.

Hestia smirked. "You'll have to get used to it, _Princess._ It's your title."

"You're already my confidant and my only friend in the palace. Please, please just call me Lily."

"Really, Princess?" A male voice rang out behind me, freezing my blood solid. "Your _only_ friend?" I whirled around to spot James behind me, looking as if he'd just woken up with tousled hair and a groggy voice. He still managed to look infuriatingly amused. "I hope we're still on for our library date."

Hestia grinned broadly as I stammered, "It is _not_ a date. We're _studying."_

"Funny, I don't remember you doing a lot of studying in school, Potter," Hestia said with a smirk. "Come on, Lily. Don't you have a nine o'clock tea with the Lord of Puddlemere?"

"Pencil me in, would you, Jones?" James called after us as Hestia led me away. "I'd hate for Her Highness to forget about our date."  
"Not a date!" I called back. Then I added to Hestia, "Is this a Hogwarts custom, tea in the morning?"

"No, but apparently it is in Puddlemere. Now come _along_ Lily—or has flirting worn you out so much you can't hurry?"

Well, we'd certainly come a long way from stammering in fear.

"Why must we hurry? It's barely eight thirty."

"You have to _change,"_ she said, her fingers closed in a vice-like grip around my wrist as she pulled me up a flight of stairs (I was quickly out of breath) and down another corridor. "You can't meet the Lord and Lady of Puddlemere in jeans and a tank top, can you?"

I tugged at the edge of my Beatles tank top self-consciously. "I was blending in with tourists," I said defensively.

She yanked open a white-and-gold door that looked like all the other white-and-gold doors, but it opened onto my room. "I'll put you in for an appointment with the Prince of Gryffindor in the library at two o'clock sharp today, yes? Oh, and just so you know, your _official_ meeting with him and his advisors isn't until Thursday. So try not to act all chummy then, okay?"

I stuck my tongue at her. "I shall try my best. Oh, and Hestia?"

She stopped in the act of shoving the door closed in my face. "Yes?"

"Thank you," I said, trying to convey all of my sincerity and gratitude into those two words. She seemed to understand, as she smiled and closed the door gently.

As soon as she did, two maids leapt out at me from behind the slightly ajar door to my closet. The blonde bowed as the brunette curtsied. My heart nearly leapt out of my throat.

"Hello, your Highness," one of them began. "We're here to help you dress!" The other finished.

(I'm writing them on one line, rather than breaking it up, as one is supposed to do, because they seemed to speak as one. I hope you'll forgive me. Also, it rather conveys the creepiness, doesn't it? Crap, I'm running out of time, I think I hear McGonagall...)

"Oh...thanks," I said, less-than-enthusiastically. "I can dress myself, though. I mean, it's only a tea, isn't it?"

"Of course, miss," said the blonde. "But Lady McGonagall believed you...how did she put it, Winky?"

"Incapable of choosing something appropriate!" The brunette finished, sounding pleased with herself.

I nodded slowly. "Okay," I said. "Help me find something to wear, then. I haven't had the chance to peruse my closet yet."

Winky and Dobby (whose name I later learned) immediately began pulling down pastel dresses and gauzy skirts, holding blouses up and tossing them aside just as quickly. Before I knew what was happening, tiny pearl beads were being fastened up my back, and a light mint-green dress was floating just above my knees.

Dobby was fastening my hair into a low bun, and Winky threaded seed pearls into it, matching the dress. "Absolutely gorgeous, miss," they squeaked in unison, curtseying low.

"Oh," I said. "Thank you." They were right—the dress was stunning on me. "You don't have the curtsey or call me miss, though, you know."

The two exchanged glances. "But...we must, miss!" To prove their point, they curtseyed again. I got the feeling I would get absolutely nowhere with those two, so I merely smiled and let them lead me from the closet and station me in front of my closed doors. "Miss Hestia will be here to get you in a moment," Winky assured me. "There's a bell by your bed to ring if you need anything," Dobby told me. The two disappeared through a door I hadn't noticed before, nestled between my closet and the bathroom.

The large doors to my room swung open mere seconds after they departed, and Hestia stood before me, looking quite satisfied. "Well, you clean up nicely," she said. "I see why Potter was so taken with you earlier."

I stuck my tongue out at her, relieved to have a friend. "Well, I'm dressed and as ready as I suppose I ever will be. Is it time to meet the Lord of Puddlemere and his odd, early-tea-drinking customs?"

"Nearly," Hestia said, glancing at her watch. "But come along. I'll lead you there early."

So here I sit, in a chair outside the tearoom, _waiting._ I thought one of the perks of being a princess was that people wait on you, not the other way around! Guess I was mistaken.

Hagrid says bossing people around will come in time. He's still here, by the way. For someone so large, he can be surprisingly stealthy.

Wait a second, when he gets here, where on EARTH am I going to stash this diary? It's far too large to stuff in my bra, I just checked, and someone's coming around the corner RIGHT NOW

* * *

 _ **9-something in the morning, the kitchens?**_

 _ **How on Earth am I supposed to know how she makes her headers if she won't let me read the bloody thing?**_

 _ **HRH James Potter, temporary owner of HRH Lily Evans' diary.**_

Lily has made me swear not to read a word of what she's written in this, but she didn't forbid me from _writing_ in it. She seemed in quite a hurry when she thrust this book upon me, her cheeks flushed with worry (forgive me, Evans, but I can't help but imagine that your diary needs a poetic spin!), hurriedly hissing instructions as the formidable Professor McGonagall rounded the corner.

Although, I suppose, here in this capacity she is no longer a professor but a Lady. Fortunately for me, McGonagall loves me, and she sent me on my way with a sharp glance. Unfortunately for the princess, McGonagall followed her and her large bodyguard into the tearoom. I can only imagine the horrors taking place within, the horrors of mid-morning tea.

As previously stated in the header of this entry, I am currently ensconced in the kitchens, accompanied by one Sirius Black (friend, confidant, advisor, royal pain in my ass), one Remus Lupin (advisor, friend, confidant, moody little shit), and one Peter Pettigrew (confidant, advisor, friend, inhaler of breakfast). I very rarely travel anywhere without them

 _AS THE WANKER FINDS HIMSELF LOST WITHOUT US!_

And thus you find yourself acquainted with the young Mr Black. He very rarely says anything of consequence, I am unsure as to why I made him advisor in the first place

 _YOU KNOW YOU LOVE ME, POTTER_

Ah! We are delightfully interrupted by the appearance of Miss Hestia Jones, sneaking down for a snack and skiving off her duties. I promised her I wouldn't report her, but by writing this, aren't I confessing her misdemeanor to the princess herself?

I find myself looking forward to our date (though the princess insists it is simply a professional rendezvous, I know better), despite the rather somber nature of our research. I asked my friends/advisors, and none of them are particularly well acquainted with King Riddle's lineage. Though Peter did get rather squeamish when I broached the topic, I think that was just because most royalty make him uncomfortable.

I seem to have run out of what to speak of. Lily, how do you do it? How do you write on an on about essentially nothing, and (I assume, as I have not encroached upon your privacy) keep it captivating? Let us see...

I am currently eating a crumpet with jam. I was thinking of Lily, and how overwhelmingly British she is, so I decided to see what the fuss is about. I am unimpressed. The crumpet tastes rather bitter, and I'd really rather just eat the jam straight from the jar. Sirius encourages this, but Remus has cautioned against it. Something about rotting teeth. That doesn't seem to perturb Peter—if anything, he's eyeing the jar with more fervor now.

I love this vacation. My parents are back at home, dealing with matters of real consequence, and I don't have any real duties until Thursday, so I have the rest of the week to relax and enjoy time without any responsibilities.

It's not that my responsibilities are a _chore_ , exactly. Well, they are, but I'm glad of them—I know I'm luckier than most, and still. It's immensely tiring, knowing that someday you will hold the fate of a country in your immensely incompetent well-manicured and handsome hands.

Wow. Something about diaries make you just NEED to pour your heart out into them. I wonder what Evans has on her mind...but I swore I wouldn't peek! I swore on my honor

 _YOU HAVE NO HONOR, PRONGS_

That's me. I'm Prongs. Stupid bloody nickname my mates gave me after my father tried to take me hunting when I was eight and instead of shooting the stag I befriended it. Who would have thought being a DECENT HUMAN could be fodder for a lifelong nickname?

 _IT'S BETTER THAN THE DEER WHISPERER_

I was eight, Padfoot, get over it. Does Lily usually recount whole scenes from her day, or just her thoughts? I'm asking you, blank sheet of paper, because regretfully Evans is not here. I wonder how her tea is going. I worry about her—it can't be easy, thrust into this life and expected to do it all perfectly. Maybe I could tutor her.

HA! Padfoot—that's Sirius, by the way, Evans—tried to write another snarky comment but I have evaded him! There's a secret doorway in the kitchens, you press the third panel by the walk-in freezer and the wall slides back. It only leads to the Dippet Memorial Garden, but if you ever need an escape from the kitchens (or to the kitchens), that's one of many. Perhaps I should compile a list for Evans, when she returns.

HRH JAMES POTTER'S COMPREHENSIVE LIST OF SECRET PASSAGES*

*that I know of. I cannot claim knowledge for those secret passages yet undiscovered, but I endeavor to make my knowledge on the subject complete.

1\. If you tug on _Jinxes for the Jinxed_ on the seventh bookcase from the back in the library, the bookcase will swing forward. This leads to the fourth floor corridor, behind a tapestry of one of my ancestors. I honestly don't know what she's doing in your castle, Evans.

2\. Press the third panel by the walk-in freezer and the wall slides back. It leads to the Dippet Memorial Garden. (Yes, this was pretty much copied word-for-word from a few lines ago. My hand is cramping, Evans, give a bloke a break.)

3\. In my usual guest room (you should know it as the Verdillious Room), pulling open the bottom drawer in the desk will cause the false back of the closet to release. Push on the back wall of the closet and it will open like a door. The passage opens up behind a tapestry of one of YOUR ancestors, right beside the princess' suite. Make of that what you will.

4\. You can lift the back panel of the pedestal that holds up the bust of Bronwyn Trigg on the fourth floor and it will reveal a narrow tunnel down to the second floor. Warning: It's a VERY narrow tunnel, and very steep. It's better for objects than people. It opens up to the dumbwaiter by the servant's bathroom. When I said steep, I meant it, Evans.

5\. I have a feeling you'll want to use this one, Princess. On the northern grounds, near the tennis courts, you'll see a large weeping willow. Search its roots—among them you will find an opening. Drop down through the hole and you'll find a man-made tunnel heading north. Follow it all the way, and it will lead you to an abandoned shack in Hogsmeade, a neighboring village. If you ever need to escape, that's the route I recommend. Very few people know of its existence.

There are more, dearest diary, but alas, our time together is cut short. Miss Hestia Jones has fetched me from the Dippet Memorial Garden, informing me that your tea has reached completion, Evans, and you are now frantically searching for this little book.

Your castle is fascinating, Evans. Far more interesting than mine, that is for sure. I would love to create a map of this place—three-dimensional, even, to really incorporate all seven floors and the dungeons. Did you know you have dungeons? We should go sometime. They have quite the aesthetic.

Ah, here you come, Princess. Striding across the lawn, your terrifying bodyguard at your heels. You look quite lovely when you're furious.

* * *

 ** _Monday, June 12, 11:24 am_**

 ** _My room_**

I don't have time to read everything he wrote—tea with the Lord and Lady of Puddlemere was an absolute disaster! Lord Puddlemere kept droning on and on about exports and imports, and while I knew that this was probably a very good topic to make note of, I just kept dozing off. It was early, and the tea tasted awful with the toothpaste still in my mouth.

Hagrid says it wasn't so bad, but I think he's just saying that to be nice. Lady Puddlemere kept eyeing the neckline of my dress, and I could tell it wasn't to admire the stitching. She kept sniffing disapprovingly. Honestly, it makes me want to wear an even lower-cut shirt the next time I see her. I wonder if she would faint from the scandal of it all! She strikes me as the type of woman who would pretend to faint to prove a point.

Although let's be real: _I'm_ the type of woman who would pretend to faint to prove a point.

Okay, Hestia just popped her head in. She says I have an hour of downtime before I lunch with McGonagall to go over plans for the coming week (and, hopefully, to discuss the SCHOOL thing), so I think I'll take the time to see what Prince Potter has written in my diary. His handwriting is very neat and even. I bet he took _loads_ of notes in school, he seems like the kind of bloke who's well-read...

NO, EVANS. You're not drooling over his bloody handwriting. Get your head together.

* * *

 ** _Monday, June 12, 2:12 pm_**

 ** _The Elizabeth Burke Library_**

James is right NEXT to me, smelling like boy (well, expensive boy) and poring over a dusty old tome, and I'm LITERALLY drooling. I need so much help.

I read what he wrote, and I have filed away the list of secret passages for...personal use. Now we've met up at the library (Hestia did indeed pencil him in, for two o'clock) to look over Hogwarts history, specifically in relation to Slytherin.

There's been one king of Hogwarts from Slytherin, Phineas Nigellus Black, and he died in 1925. I'm studying him specifically, to see if he came into power because of some sort of link, but it seems like he just married the queen, and when she died, he ascended to be king. Funny, because I would've thought her children would've become the rulers, as he should've been just King Consort, but what do I know?

James suspects foul play, but he's been poring over the Black family tree for about ten minutes, so fat load of help he's been. He looks very concerned though, and won't talk to me right now. What on earth could be so fascinating about an old family tr—IS HE YANKING OUT A PAGE?

He did. He ripped a bloody page out of a bloody LIBRARY BOOK.

"Look, Lily, it's technically _your_ book, and you don't need the page, do you?"

I gave him the filthiest look I could muster.

"Fine, fine, I'll pay for reparations! I just...I need this page, okay?"

I narrowed my eyes, but he looked so desperate and helpless I had to take pity on him. I took the page from him, flattening it out on the desk, and pulled out my phone to snap a picture of it. "What's your number?" I asked, trying to sound nonchalant, like I wasn't totally asking for his number.

He looked shocked, like the notion of TAKING A PICTURE rather than DAMAGING OLD BOOKS hadn't occurred to him. He gave me his number, and I promptly texted the photo of the family tree to him. "There," I said huffily. "That wasn't so bad, was it? Now, could you fetch me some tape?"

He's off on a tape-fetching mission, and now I'm examining the family tree. It's funny, because this Phineas bloke has a brother named Sirius, spelled exactly like James spelled his mate Sirius' name. In fact...hang on. Let me flip back, I think he mentioned Sirius' last name...

He DID! Sirius Black, same as the brother of an old king of Hogwarts. I mean, obviously it's not the same person, because that would be ridiculous (though the thought 'vampire' did cross my mind for an instant). But Sirius is an advisor for the prince of _Gryffindor._ He couldn't possibly be a Slytherin...or descended from them, I suppose.

I am now utterly determined to uncover the mystery that is Sirius Black. Also, he seemed like a really nice guy. Spending time with him (even to uncover his origin story) wouldn't be too awful.

But back on topic. Other than the possibility of foul play leading to Phineas Nigellus Black becoming king of Hogwarts for a few years in the early twentieth century, Slytherin and Hogwarts have seemed to coexist separately but relatively peacefully.

James has returned with tape and a folder full of trade agreements between Slytherin and Hogwarts. Boy do I _not_ want to read those.

* * *

 ** _Monday June 12, 3:02 pm_**

 ** _Advisory Meeting_**

I'm really bored listening to zoning mandates, whatever the hell those are, and I just remembered I never wrote anything about my lunch with McGonagall!

We sat down for lunch in a huge dining room that I've been informed is called the Great Hall, and it seemed even bigger considering we were the only two people in it. Platters of mini sandwiches and tureens of soups were whisked in so quickly it seemed almost like magic, but I was so anxious I couldn't touch any of it.

"I've met Hestia," I blurted out, practically the instant we'd sat down.

McGonagall merely raised an eyebrow, calmly adding a teaspoon of sugar to her tea. "I see. And what did Miss Jones have to say for herself?"

"She really admires you, for one." I tried to keep the incredulity out of my voice, but judging by McGonagall's small smile, I don't think I succeeded. "And she seemed to be, for some odd reason, under the impression that I would be attending school _here_ in the fall."

McGonagall set down her teaspoon. "Ah," she said lightly. "That."

"I already told you," I said angrily. "I won't be staying, even if I decide to take the throne."

McGonagall sighed, folding her napkin neatly in her lap. "Miss Evans, I told you at the very beginning. You have until the end of the summer to decide whether or not to abdicate. If you do not choose the throne, you are welcome to return to London and live out the rest of your life there. But, if by August 31st, you have decided to assume your title as Crown Princess of Hogwarts, you _will_ have to continue your schooling here, either in the Academy or by tutor." She sniffed. "I thought I was being generous, offering the Academy. It is unusual for royalty on the throne to attend outside schooling."

I felt like I'd swallowed a bowling ball. "Th-the end of summer?" I said faintly.

"Our nation cannot go on without a reigning monarch for much longer," she said, her eyes narrowing. "If you do not ascend the throne by the end of the summer, we will be forced to—" her nostrils flared, and she cut herself off.

"Forced to what?" I demanded, practically out of my seat. "Who will take the throne if I don't?"

"It shouldn't affect your decision," she said, rising and dropping her napkin on her untouched plate. "Hokey, I think I'll take lunch in my office." The maid she addressed nodded and scurried off to the kitchens as McGonagall swept from the room in a swirl of emerald skirt.

So yeah. I'm going to orientation in three days, and I'm still clueless as to who takes the throne if I abdicate. I asked Hagrid, and he doesn't know, but he seemed genuinely apologetic about it, so I've decided to forgive him.

Oh, crap, one of my dad's old advisors needs my attention. I have no clue what's going on!

* * *

 ** _Monday June 12, 5:23 pm_**

 ** _My room, getting ready for dinner_**

God, I'm exhausted. Note to self: get new advisors. I don't know how dad stood them all, old white men clamoring to be heard, each with a worse idea than the last. One seems all right though. His name is Albus Dumbledore; I think my driver back in London mentioned him once or twice.

He asked me how I wanted to spend my summer, whether I wanted to try actual governing, or to stick to my studies and let them lead in the meantime.

"Ideally, I would like to learn _and_ govern," I said, tugging at my skirt. "If possible. But what have you been doing since my father passed?"

Dumbledore smiled at me, his blue eyes twinkling. "We vote on measures, and pass them by majority."

I blinked. "Like an oligarchy?"

Several of the men burst out coughing, shifting uncomfortably. Dumbledore seemed delighted. "Not quite, princess. We simply rule as best we can, until the rightful monarch takes the throne."

Now was my moment. "And who _would_ take the throne? Assuming I abdicate, of course."

More coughing. Some of the twinkle left Dumbledore's eye. "Well, we should be moving along to the matter of your schooling, we're about to adjourn."

So, like, THAT was weird. I called Hestia in a minute ago to go over my schedule for tomorrow, and she squeezed James in at two o'clock, just like today. I hope it becomes an every day reoccurrence. But I REALLY hope we figure out what the hell's going on, and why everyone dances around the subject.

Thankfully, tonight's dinner is going to be nothing like last night's ball. It's going to be with the mayor of Hogsmeade (which, thanks to James, I now know how to sneak into!) and his husband, basically to welcome me to the area and discuss noise ordinances. I can hardly wait.

Winky and Dobby keep trying to get me to put on dresses, but I have TWO HOURS. I'm not going to start getting ready NOW, I'm going to start fifteen minutes before I need to be there, and nearly give myself a heart attack from the rush and panic.

Neither of them thinks that's a very good idea.

Who's at the door—I have TWO HOURS!

* * *

 ** _Monday, June 12, 11:40 pm_**

 ** _My bed, half-asleep_**

The mayor of Hogsmeade brought me candy! Apparently there's a lovely little shop called Honeydukes that sells the best candy, and he gave me a huge box full of samples. I'm so happy and full of chocolate I could just melt into the blankets.

Before I fall asleep, the person at my door was a Remus Lupin, advisor to His Royal Highness James Fleamont Potter. He was carrying a fat folder full of yellowing paper, which he tossed on the table the second the door opened. "Your highness," he said, slightly out of breath. "J—His Highness the Prince told me to bring you these for...well, he called it 'homework'," he added this last bit apologetically.

It was that folder about trade agreements between Hogwarts and Slytherin I'd told him to bugger off about earlier. After laughing for quite a bit, I tore a page out of this diary (I know, I felt as if my own limb had been ripped off!) and scribbled him a response:

 _Dear your Royal Pain-in-the-Arse,_

 _I will not be reading these dry trade agreements. I will, instead, be reading a Wikipedia article on the history of Slytherin as a nation. Wikipedia is a reliable source on these matters. When I am queen, I plan on making all of my Royal Decrees based solely on information found in a Wikipedia articles. These "papers" written by "experts" mean nothing in the face of modern technology._

 _Quiver before my wrath._

 _Quiver before our mighty overlord, Wikipedia._

 _With immense disdain,_

 _Lily Evans_

 _PS See you tomorrow ;)_

I don't know why I added a winky face! It seems so much more flirtatious! Though, in retrospect, that was probably exactly what I was going for...I'm far too tired to dispute it now. What's done is done, the letter is sent. I have no doubt Remus Lupin read it on his way to deliver it, and probably thinks me quite an odd crown princess.

It also occurs to me that I said, in my letter, 'when I am queen'. WHEN I AM QUEEN. WHEN. NOT IF.

Maybe my subconscious is trying to tell me what to do. I know it SEEMS like the obvious choice: Lily, you idiot, just be a fucking queen. But it's NOT easy. It's also now past midnight—it took me a while to remember what I wrote to James verbatim!

It's rare to have a moment alone, to just breathe and think. I've been so busy, I've hardly had time to remember who I am.

I miss my mother. I miss Petunia.

I don't think I've thought about them all day, and that's so weird. Mum and I would always be bumping into each other in the small flat, always in each other's ways and lives, and Petunia would always be there with a snide comment and a cup of tea, sharing gossip from the little shop in which she worked.

Mum called me earlier; Petunia didn't.

Now I'm crying.

I need to go to bed, but I can't sleep. I can't stop thinking, so I'm going to make a list of pros and cons.

PROS

\- Room service, dresses, basic perks of being a princess/queen

\- James Potter (I cannot deny it is a pro)

\- Hestia Jones (I don't know her very well yet, but she seems lovely!)

\- The chance to do some good in the world

\- Save Hogwarts from some mysterious threat?

\- Really good education

CONS

\- No more Mary, Marlene, Frank, or Alice

\- (or Sev)

\- Mysterious threat? Might not be abated by my taking my throne, might just be pissed off...

\- Can't pick where I go to school

\- Never alone

\- Petunia's mad at me

They're exactly even.

I can't do this I'm going to bed. I'll look it over again in the morning. Maybe.

* * *

A/N

Hello everyone! I'm back! All my college apps are in, I'm back from out of town, and the next chapter of TR100 will be up soon! In the meantime, these mammoth chapters just keep coming. I hope you're liking this story-it doesn't seem as well-received as TR100, but I'm enjoying writing it, so WHATEVER. Also, give me one-shot ideas! I'm in the middle of three, but I could use some more.

Let me know what you think! I'm always looking to improve :)

All my love,

Alys


	7. Pugnacious Princess

CHAPTER SEVEN - Pugnacious Princess

HRH LILY EVANS' AGENDA FOR TUESDAY JUNE 13

Compiled by H. Jones

8:45 am: Princess awoken. Princess' chambers.

9:15 am: Breakfast with Lady Minerva McGonagall - Training, etiquette, etc. Greengrass Sitting Room.

10:15 am: Meeting with the Royal Hogwarts Guard - Representatives Sir Alastor Moody, Rubeus Hagrid, and John Dawlish. The armory.

11:30 am: Preparations for luncheon with the Earl of Barnton and the Countess of Appleby. Princess' chambers.

12:15 pm: Luncheon - the Earl of Barnton and the Countess of Appleby. Great Hall.

1:30 pm: Free time.

2:00 pm: Unofficial library rendez-vous with a certain prince - wink wink!

3:00 pm: Prepare for tea with royal cabinet advisor - Kingsley Shacklebolt. Lestrange Parlor.

3:45 pm: Tea with royal cabinet advisor - Kingsley Shacklebolt. Lestrange Parlor.

4:45 pm: Lesson with Lady Minerva McGonagall - History, tradition, etc. Queenie Goldstein Memorial Library.

5:15 pm: Free time/prep for dinner with Hufflepuff Prime Minister Sprout

7:00 pm: Dinner with Hufflepuff Prime Minister Sprout. Great Hall.

11:00 pm: Bedtime! Zzz.

* * *

 _ **Tuesday, June 13, 9:01 am**_

 _ **My 'chambers'**_

Today it was Hestia who woke me up. She was very apologetic about the whole thing, which I appreciate, but it doesn't stop the fact that it's far too early to be awake in the summer.

Dobby and Winky are rushing around finding the 'perfect dress' for me, but all I really want to do is go back to bed. Or curl up in the library with a certain prince. Wink wink, indeed.

Well, now that I see it, the 'perfect dress' isn't too shabby. It's a lovely pale blue, with fabric roses on the shoulder straps. I love summer dresses!

According to my itinerary for the day, I need to meet with McGonagall for more training, which I am mature enough to admit I desperately need. I always thought being a princess was easy, just saying things and making them happen. Turns out there are "checks and balances" and "ways to avoid tyranny". Psh.

I'm being unceremoniously stuffed into the 'perfect dress', so I must be brief, I'm afraid.

* * *

 _ **Tuesday, June 13, 10:12 am**_

 _ **Outside the armory**_

I've only got a second to write this, McGonagall was done with me at 10:10 and expected me to be ready for my next meeting at 10:15. I'm not a bloody witch, you know!

Anyways, turns out we've got a ball coming up next Tuesday, to celebrate an obscure Hogwarts holiday. I suppose I need to brush up on my national holidays.

BUT. And here's what I needed to write down.

I'M ALLOWED TO INVITE GUESTS!

Yes, that's right! As soon as my 11:30 preparations for lunch roll around, I'm allowed to take a whole TEN MINUTES to call Sev, Alice, Marlene, Mary, and Frank and invite them to come out as early as this Saturday! Oooooh I'm just SO EXCITED! I know they'll all love it here, and Marlene will be so THRILLED to meet James—oh dear. James and Severus won't mix very well. I suppose I'll have to keep them separate.

Ohhh, speak of the devil and he shall appear!

James just popped by to wish me luck on my luncheon with the Earl and Countess, and to make sure we were still on for our meeting in the library.

"Of course," I replied, tilting my chin up. "It's even in my schedule." I held out my itinerary proudly.

He burst out laughing at Hestia's notation. "Wink wink? Princess, I'm afraid you'll have to disabuse her of the notion that we are up to illicit activities."

"I've told her, but I'm afraid she's incorrigible." I snatched the paper from him, folding it back up and tucking it neatly between the cover and front page of my diary. "I've got to go in for my meeting, Hagrid and the others are waiting for some discussion on security."

James gave me a brief hug (!) and said, "Make sure they don't increase security on the Elizabeth Burke library, I plan on getting up to some illicit activities there later."

I hit him with my diary just as the door swung open, revealing a grizzled man with an alarmingly blue glass eye. James scurried away laughing, but now I'm stuck with this man glaring at me. I think he thinks I'm being rude. Will fill you in later.

* * *

 _ **Tuesday, June 13, 12:03 pm**_

 _ **My chambers**_

I just finished calling all my friends, and I ACTUALLY have twelve minutes of downtime before lunch. I can't believe it. I can just...breathe.

Crap. I fell asleep. It's now 12:13, and I only have TWO minutes to write all this down. Curse my overwhelmingly heavy eyelids!

Okay, so first I called Marlene. She'd have absolutely MURDERED me if I hadn't. There's a two-hour time difference, so it was 9 am, but she answered! Said she was about to go to the gym, but I'm not sure if I believe her.

"Guess what?" I began with as soon as she picked up.

She gasped. "Prince James asked to marry you and you're the new princess of Gryffindor!"  
"What? No. I don't even know how a marriage between us would work—would our kingdoms merge, or would we go back and forth?" I found myself worrying about this a little _too_ much for something that was supposedly only hypothetical, but I still made a note to ask McGonagall. "No, this is different. You're invited to the ball next Tuesday, all expenses paid!"

Marlene shrieked so loud I dropped the phone. When I picked it back up again off the marble tiles (it's a miracle it didn't shatter, honestly) she was emitting a stream of yesses so slurred and excited I had to laugh. "Sorry, Marl, I can't quite—I can't quite understand you. Are you busy that week?"

"No, you dolt! Oh, I'm so excited; I get to see Prince James! D'you reckon he'll like me?"

"From what I've told him so far, he's just as excited to meet you."

"LILY! You have _not_ talked to the prince of Gryffindor about me! Oh my GOD, what did he say? What did you say?"

"Keep it in your trousers, Marlene. Besides, need I remind you you're speaking to royalty _right now?"_

"Oh, hush, you don't count."

I'm simply touched by her compassion and love for me. Once we settled the details (chartered plane, London Heathrow, early Tuesday morning), I promised to chat later and hung up to move down my list of friends.

Frank answered Alice's phone (she was, apparently, still sleeping) but agreed just as quickly as Marlene. Mary took a little longer to convince, since she doesn't much like flying, and only acquiesced when I promised to ensure there were sleeping pills on board. For a two hour flight. Sigh.

I stared at my phone for a minute before dialing Sev's number. He never, ever, ever hung out with me when my friends were around, partly because they couldn't stand him and partly because he couldn't stand them. But this was important to me. He would understand.

"I don't understand," he said. "You want _me_ at a Hogwarts ball? Next Tuesday?"

"Well, yes, you prat," I said, laughing. "That's why I called. It'll be all expenses paid, private jet, private room in the palace and all that. I don't think you _can_ say no?"

He was silent for a moment. "Just me?"

"Well." I twirled a strand of hair around my finger, a nervous tick of mine. "Marlene and the others are coming too."

"On the same plane?"

"On the same plane," I confirmed. "Look, Sev, I know there's...bad blood. But this is really important to me, and I really want you to be there for me."

"Okay."

"Okay?" I asked, my heart daring to leap. "Really? You'll come?"

"'Course," he said gruffly. "Private jet, free vacation...you."

"Oh, thank you so much!" I gushed. "I can't wait, you'll absolutely love it here! I can give you a tour, you'll _love_ the movie theatre, we've got a collection of indie films you'll love to hate!"

Sev was a little quieter than I liked, and not nearly as enthusiastic as I'd hoped. "I'll be there, Lily. I have to g—see you next Tuesday?"

It was a question; he always posed it as a question, like he wasn't sure I still wanted to see him. It very nearly made my heart break, every single time. "Of course," I said hurriedly. "Next Tuesday. See you, Sev."

He hung up.

So that's that! All my friends, in MYpalace, with my prince!

Well. Not _my_ prince. My friend the prince. The prince who is my friend. And his friends. And every time I look at my schedule and see his name (which I doodled in) I get butterflies in my stomach.

Oops, that's McGonagall. This could make or break my day!

* * *

 _ **Tuesday, June 13, 1:40 pm**_

 _ **My chambers**_

My day is broken.

Sev just sent me a video, entitled "GRYFFINDOR PRINCE SPURNS HOGWARTS' NEW PRINCESS!" I don't know why I hadn't seen it sooner, but like the idiot I am, I clicked it.

It was a press conference, I wasn't sure from when. The video was uploaded today, but the footage itself could've been before he met me. Could have been. But that tie...wasn't he wearing it yesterday? And that cafe in the background is in Hogwarts.

The interviewer, that bitch Rita Skeeter (how did she get here?) was asking about my flub back at my press conference. "So, the princess said, and I quote, 'I will not be entertaining the possibility of marriage, to Prince James or anyone'." Skeeter looked innocently at James, her acid green feathered pen brushing against her cheek, poised to write something undoubtedly scathing. "What do you think of this...bold statement?"

James gave a small chuckle. "I've spoken to Princess Lily several times since then, and she's been far more eloquent in person. I think we need to give her time to develop into royalty, she's only been here a few days, after all."

"You've spoken!" Skeeter pressed a hand dramatically to her chest. I squeezed my phone so hard I almost cracked the case. "And does she seem this averse to you face to face?"

"Fortunately no," he said, laughing again. That laugh sounded so much more cruel at my expense. "Now, I'm not saying a marriage is on the table..." here he leaned in conspiratorially, "but if it were, I wouldn't be upset."

The video ended. I stared at the thumbnail, James' easy smirk, Skeeter's quirked lips and raised eyebrows. How could he talk about me so cavalierly? He practically called me immature, a commoner...all while laughing!

I shouldn't go meet him at two. I really shouldn't.

But I really, REALLY want to yell at him. Really badly.

* * *

 _ **Tuesday, June 13, 2:32 pm**_

 _ **That alcove from the other day**_

Damn it, I'm crying.

James seemed so excited to see me when I showed up at the Elizabeth Burke library, five minutes early. He didn't even seem to notice the storm brewing on my face. "Ready?" he asked. "I found another book on the history of Hogwarts' and Slytherin's nobility, there might be something there—"

I shoved my phone under his nose, the video open on my screen, paused mid-laugh. "So," I said, my voice quivering with rage. "Far more eloquent in person, huh?"

He looked at the video in confusion. "Lily, I don't understand. I don't think I said anything offensive—did I?"

"You _wouldn't be upset if a marriage were on the table?"_ My voice was rising to a shriek, but the library was empty. "I look like some...some piece of meat, an attractive prize you'd like to compete for!"

His hands were up in the universal _I surrender_ gesture. "I didn't mean it like that, I'm sorry, Lily—I was playing to the camera and the interviewer, you'll have to learn to do it too—

"Not at someone else's expense, I won't!" I dropped my phone on the desk. "I do not need to _develop_ into royalty, thank you very much—oh, and by the way, it's _your Highness_ from now on. You've lost your Lily privileges."

James seemed pissed now. "Sorry, your _Highness,_ I didn't realize I wasn't allowed to defend you from expectations that you should be perfectly prepared."

"I don't need your defense," I said. But I hadn't thought of it that way.

"Hmph." James got to his feet, sliding the book towards me. "I should go, your Highness. And just for the record, I _am_ glad a marriage isn't an option right now. Because I don't know what's come over you, but 'rational' is a requirement in spouses for me." He stormed out of the library, and I dissolved into tears.

I don't know how much was anger and how much felt like betrayal, but he was right. I shouldn't have come in, guns blazing. God, I'm an IDIOT. I also want to blame Sev for sending me the bloody video, but I can't. I fucked things up. And now I'm hiding here, cradling this stupid book to my chest and _missing_ that royal prat.

* * *

 _ **Tuesday, June 13, 3:12 pm**_

 _ **Lestrange Parlor, while McGonagall and Shacklebolt chat**_

Hestia found me in the alcove. She says James is mad but feels really bad, too, which almost makes me feel worse. She says Sirius is about ready to kill me for being so meddlesome, and I don't blame him. I just miss Marlene. Hestia hugged me, and she's very good at it.

"I didn't even get to tell him that my friends are coming," I sobbed into Hestia's shoulder. "Marlene wanted to meet him, and I need to know what happens if I abdicate!"

Hestia pushed me back. "That's what you've been doing in the library? Why didn't you say so?" She took the book from me. "This might have some answers...I'm not sure who's next in line right now."

"King Riddle..." I hesitated, letting the tears dry on my cheeks. "He said something, at my ball. Something that basically insinuated _he_ would be next in line. And at some of my meetings, people dance around what will happen if I step down. Will you help me? I can't make this decision if I don't have all the facts."

Hestia nodded solemnly. "It'll be our secret." She checked her watch and swore. "It's three. You're late for tea with Shacklebolt—he's cool, though, you'll like him." She helped me to my feet and glanced me up and down. "You'll have to do," she said, tugging my hair out of its ponytail. "I'll take you to the Lestrange Parlor, we'll stop at a bathroom on the way over so you can splash your face."

I drew her into another hug. "Thank you," I whispered. "I needed this."

"Of course you did," she said brightly. "That's why I'm your personal assistant. Now come along—Shacklebolt's cool, but not _that_ cool."

She was right, of course. Shacklebolt is awesome. I've only known Hestia for about a day, and I can already tell she's going to be the best thing about this place. I have to go to school orientation (ugh) in two days, but if it's with Hestia...I think I could be okay with it? Especially once Marlene & co. visit. I really think that will help.

Anyways, Shacklebolt. He could be an asset (I should really start a list of people I can trust with my weird King Riddle problem—but should James be on that list or not?). He's the Royal Cabinet Advisor after all; his job is pretty much to help _me_ , and he should know everything there is to know about relations with neighboring countries. The only problem is that McGonagall is here, and I'm not sure I trust her with this. She wasn't even on my schedule; Hestia says she came along because she doesn't trust _me,_ hah!

We've got biscuits here, which is fantastic. I'm absolutely famished and totally dehydrated, crying really takes a lot out of a girl. Now that I've calmed down, by the way, I'm totally embarrassed by how I reacted. I think I'm just...insecure about how people see me. Especially now that I'm a _princess._ And in the spotlight.

Ugh, this tea tastes nasty. I'm mostly just drinking it to be polite.

Shacklebolt just told me he admires how dedicated I am to my notetaking and writing! Also, that if I have any questions, to ask him! Don't mind if I do, Mr Shacklebolt, hehehe...

I really don't feel very good. My mouth is so dry, but I really don't want ANY more of that disgusting excuse for tea. Is this headache from my crying? Also, is it ridiculously hot in here, or is it just me?

I asked one of the servants to open a window, I'm practically sweating here, and McGonagall just gave me an odd look. I feel so clammy—I dearly hope I'm not coming down with the flu.

Just realized I'm still hanging onto that book James grabbed for me. I should probably start reading it, because apparently not _everything_ is on Wikipedia. Point one for James.

My hands are shaking so badly I can hardly write. Is it getting dark in here

* * *

 _ **Tuesday, June 13, 9:44 pm**_

 _ **The Hospital Wing**_

So. I've been poisoned.

That's what Madam Pomfrey says, anyways, and she's the Royal Physician. So I'd take her word on it. The whole castle is in lockdown while they try to find whoever poisoned me, and the scientists and going through my tea to try and figure out what kind of poison it was.

Fortunately, I'll be completely fine in about 24 hours. Unfortunately, that leaves me fit to go to orientation.

Hestia came by to drop off my schedule for tomorrow. I'll still be meeting people (apparently, being poisoned and bed-ridden does not exempt you from royal duties), but at least I'll take them here. James Potter is still on for our two o'clock meeting.

He stopped by, too. The second he entered the room (which is full of guards, by the way. They no longer trust me on my own; sleeping is going to be a nightmare) I started talking.

"James! I'm so sorry, I overreacted so badly earlier, I'm just...I'm not used to this—"

James sat down at the foot of my bed. "Don't apologize," he said. "I shouldn't expect you to be. You're taking to all this so well, sometimes I forget you won't have a grasp on the nuances, yet." He looked at me for a second, but I wasn't going to start running my mouth again. "Lil—your Highness," he corrected, and I winced, thinking about this afternoon.

"Forget about that Highness business," I said. "It's far too stuffy, I think."

That managed to elicit a smile. "Alright. Lily. I think..." he glanced around, making sure no one was listening too closely. He lowered his voice. "I think this is because of you and me. Our investigation."

I blinked twice. "This? The poison thing?"

He laughed humorlessly. "Yes, Lily, _the poison thing._ You know, I've had my fair share of assassination attempts, but none of them came within days of my attaining princehood."

"Well, no, but you were several days old within days of attaining princehood," I pointed out. "Babies are useless, there's no point in plotting assassinations for them."

"I suppose," he conceded. "However, I think it's more imperative than ever that we keep what we're doing under lock and key. The only people who know on my end are Remus, Sirius, and Peter, I swear."

"I told Hestia earlier today," I said. "I haven't known her very long, but—"

"We can trust her," James interrupted. "I'll meet you here tomorrow, but let's take a breather on the research for a few days, okay? Instead, we'll have a quick lesson on the nuances of being royalty. A crash course in what you usually learn by growing up in a castle."

I smiled at him, suddenly seized with an urge to hug him, but I refrained. "Thank you," I said. "Really. I don't expect you to understand how freaked out by all this I am—"

"Someone tried to kill you. I think you get a pass."

I laughed. "Thanks. Again."

A guard approached politely. "Prince James, Madam Pomfrey has requested that her Highness be left alone to sleep. After such an ordeal she needs her rest."

"Of course," James said diplomatically. "I won't be a moment."

"It's really fine," I protested. "He can stay."

"Ah, will you miss me, then, Evans?" He asked, a teasing smile gracing his lips. God, I bet wars have been fought over smiles like that. His eyes twinkled behind his glasses, and I suddenly couldn't fathom why on earth I'd ever been mad at him in the first place.

"Dreadfully," I said, covering sincerity with faked sarcasm. "And how will you fare, going hours without seeing me? I don't expect I'll see you tomorrow, you'll have wilted away in my absence..."

James clutched a hand to his heart. "You see right through me, Evans! Alas, I must depart, fair princess. Keep me in your heart until we meet again. At two o'clock tomorrow."

I giggled, but it dissolved into a cough and James' smile faded. I was cursing my lungs for being counterproductive when he leaned close. "Please get better." His lips brushed my cheek before he pulled away, nodding to the guards at the doors as he left. I quickly switched to thanking my lungs.

Madam Pomfrey just bustled over, bearing some sort of sleeping pills she's trying to force down my throat.

The pills have been forced down my throat. There's only a matter of time before I fall asleep, and she looks like she's ready to yank this diary out of my hands. So goodnight, to be continued!

* * *

A/N

I'm back! I'm OFFICIALLY a high school graduate! It's so weird, I've been so busy the last two weeks I'm finding it extremely difficult to slow down. I was just watching the Tonys with two books in my lap while snapchatting my friends, painting my toes, and writing thank you notes. Which is. Probably not healthy for me, but great for you, because it means I'll be writing again! Also, my eighteenth birthday is in four days. Actually, it's nearly midnight, so three days. Yikes.

Sorry it's been so long, but chapter eight is already in the works. I know this one was short, but I think a LOT happened! Keep leaving my reviews, it really does speed up the writing process!

All my love,

Alys xoxo


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